AFTER THE KISS
by LisaB-md
Summary: Sequel to First Date. They've kissed. Now what? COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

Notes:  This is a sequel to my one-shot, _First "Date"_.  If you want to find out how they wind up in the kiss, you need to read that first.  

Disclaimer:  I don't own Dragonballz nor am I making any money off this story.  I'm just having a wee bit of fun. 

AFTER THE KISS

*Chapter 1* 

Bulma woke up slowly.  Somehow she'd fallen asleep in a totally unnatural position and she winced as she rearranged herself.  A glance at the window told her it was going to be an ugly day.  It wasn't raining yet, but if the view from her window was any indication, it would soon.

There was an unidentifiable lump of blue on her carpet.  Oh, it was her gown from the night before.

Bulma sat straight up in bed.  _The night before. . . ._

_Oh my god, I kissed Vegeta!!_

Bulma clapped her hands across her mouth to keep from screaming.    _Augh!  What was I thinking?!!!  I KISSED Vegeta! _ 

Bulma scrambled out of bed and ran to the bathroom.  She grabbed her toothbrush, slathered a healthy amount of toothpaste on it and began to scrub.

_Scrub away, little girl, _her brain said.  _But no amount of scrubbing is going to wash away the fact you kissed Vegeta not once, but TWICE.  And I think the appropriate adverb for the way you kissed him would be "enthusiastically."_

Bulma's toothbrush stilled.  "Enthusiastic" might be too weak a word.  She'd loved it.  It was so. . . raw?  Primitive?  No, that wasn't it.  Well, it _had_ been raw and primitive, but what _was_ it about kissing Vegeta that had made her react the way she did?  She blushed as she remembered putting her hands underneath the jacket to caress his shoulders.  He'd just been so _accessible_.  _Well, he's short!_  The other guys she had kissed were a lot taller than she was.  Maybe it was just the way he'd responded.  The incredible power she had felt knowing that he'd been not only caught off guard, but (if she knew anything about Vegeta) responding without thinking.  He'd just wanted to kiss her.  To touch her.  Bulma shivered.  There'd been touching alright!  

Bulma spit out the toothpaste, rinsed off her toothbrush and went back to lie on her bed.  She banged her fist against her forehead. _It was so stupid of me to get suckered in like that,_ she thought, remembering how he'd set her up.  _And so typical of me to be incapable of letting him win.  How am I going to face him after that display?  He'll never let it pass unnoticed.  Oh no, he'll probably either a) yell at me for daring to touch his royal person with my common human hands or b)tease me about it every chance he gets or c). . . well, I can't think of "c" but he's clever enough to think of one. Hmmph.. His idea of "C" is probably "incinerate offender".  _Bulma groaned.  _The truly sad thing is I think I would actually prefer "C" because it would spare me the absolute mortification of having to see him again. _ 

_Oh Kami, please let the new gravity room hold out, _she prayed_.  Please let my mother remember to stock his refrigerator._

***************************

While Bulma was fuming, Vegeta was similarly distracted by the previous evening's kiss, although not for the same reason.

Vegeta was still surprised.  

He was surprised not because Bulma had kissed him and not because he had kissed her back.  

He was surprised because _it had never occurred to him that such a thing could HAPPEN._  That he could actually feel _desire_ for her_._  Well, that he could actually feel desire for _anyone_. 

In all his travels across the galaxy, he had never found anything like a being for whom he could feel sexual desire.

Technically, that was not exactly true.  For all its size, the galaxy itself was populated mostly by humanoid species with similar reproductive processes.  There were actually quite a few species sexually compatible with Saiyan physiology.  However, they usually failed to appeal to Vegeta on two very important counts.  One was cleanliness.  The types of females usually available to mercenaries didn't appeal to Vegeta's fastidious nature, (although Radditz and Nappa didn't have similar limitations.  Vegeta had once joked Nappa would screw a hole in the ground if he was drunk enough.)  The second count was simply that they didn't look _Saiyan_.   It took more than two arms, two legs and a tail to satisfy the second count and those that did usually failed miserably to meet the first count.  

Suffice it to say that while Vegeta was not exactly a total novice sexually, he'd really been more of a _recipient _of sexual attentions than a participant.  There hadn't been anyone that he had wanted to participate _with_.

Bulma on the other hand. . . .well, _humans_ definitely looked Saiyan for all their want of a tail and ki.  Saiyans and humans were similar enough that no one on the planet even suspected that Kakarrot was an alien.  Even after taking a human mate no one suspected.  So humans and Saiyans must be imminently compatible sexually.

There was no doubt about cleanliness either.  The Briefs compound was spotless and Bulma herself was always bathing and yelling at him that he needed to bathe.  It was almost _too clean_.  Vegeta remembered Bulma almost having a conniption when he was going to eat something he'd dropped in the dirt.  She'd commanded that he turn it over immediately and deposited it into a trash receptacle, muttering something about germs.  

So here he was, totally surprised to have found what he didn't think existed and it had to be _her_.  This was totally unacceptable.  After all, he didn't even _like_ her.  

She was loud, rude and bossy.  She showed absolutely no respect for his royal lineage and no fear that he would incinerate her if she didn't.  How unbelievably stupid!  

But she _was_ beautiful, well; she was when she wasn't shouting invectives at him.  Although to be totally honest more than once he'd caught himself admiring the way looked when she was angry.  She was generous.  She'd offered up her home to him without a second thought that day and provided him more comforts than he'd ever had in the past.  When that strange boy from the future appeared and warned Kakarrot about the androids, she'd provided ingenious training equipment to make him stronger without ever once considering that she might be sealing her own doom.  

So here he was, unable to train because all of the sudden there was this _idea_ thrown into his head (and something else making an appearance in his pants the longer he thought about the idea in his head.)  It was a futile waste of valuable training time, because he knew she didn't like _him_ any more than he liked _her_. 

The more he thought about the kiss, however, the more he pondered on this idea.  He'd watched enough of the television broadcasts to know that there were definitely different types of this "kiss" and the two they'd shared last night weren't of the chaste variety.  It was the type of kiss that usually preceded sexual activity, and although he could only speak for himself with any certainty, he felt fairly sure her behavior indicated a certain amount of sexual arousal.  

So perhaps, despite everything, she might desire him too. . . Vegeta shook his head.  He would see himself back in HFIL before he'd admit anything as weak as _desire_ to her, so there was no point to this mental discussion.  A couple of days of good hard training would push the event out of his mind.  He'd just avoid the main house and seeing her and before long, he'd probably forget the entire incident.  

In the meantime, however, perhaps a cold shower was in order.

********************************************

The next week was passed exactly as the two planned it.  They avoided each other.  The gravity room and Bulma's mother unknowingly cooperated in this plan, sparing Bulma from having to take charge of either situation and thus see Vegeta; and Vegeta was allowed to train continuously without pesky gravity room down-time or forays to the main house to forage for food.  

Fat lot of good it did them.  

Imagination is a very powerful thing, and with a brain like Bulma's, it is very powerful indeed.  She couldn't get the thought of _having_ Vegeta out of her mind, which pissed her off to no end.  _Honestly, get a hold of yourself!_  _He's an asshole, _she thought.  _He doesn't like you and he doesn't want you.  And even if he did, you're just setting yourself up to get hurt.  You think there's some "great guy" button you're going to find and flip to the "on" position when his clothes are off?  No, he'll still be asshole—he'll just be an asshole you were stupid enough to sleep with.  You think living down kissing him is hard?  Spread your legs and you'll find out what "hard" really is!_

Unfortunately, this was the way these mental discussions usually ended for Bulma.  Somehow all her common sense would dry up and she wind up thinking things like "a guy who does push-ups in sets of a thousand probably has incredible stamina."   When she wasn't thinking coherent thoughts, the vision of his shoulders and arms just permeated her brain.  They were so. . .perfect.  Not huge, bulging masses but sleek and smooth and just the thought of running her hands along them. .  . then her tongue.  During the day there was usually someone to shake her out of her reverie, but at night Bulma was alone with her thoughts, which wasn't good at all.

Vegeta spent the next week training in a state of semi-arousal, which pissed him off to no end.  No amount of push-ups, sit-ups or katas could quite wipe the idea from his mind.  The idea that, were he to approach her, she might just turn around and wrap those slim arms around him and press her lips –and everything else—to his body.  He wondered how her breasts would feel in his hands (he'd been about to find out when she'd pushed him away.) While he might not have participated in much sexual activity, he'd certainly witnessed enough throughout his travels to dredge up one or two (or twenty) things he'd like Bulma to participate in. 

He now knew why he'd disapproved of Radditz's and Nappa's debauchery:  this feeling was extremely distracting.  Nappa and Radditz both rarely trained during their leaves, preferring to search out whatever manner of dissipated distractions the current planet had to offer.  Both stayed alive by relying on their naturally high fighting powers, but if they'd come across any enemy where technique mattered, they'd be space dust.  Now, his own training was suffering because of this . . . weakness he was feeling.  Vegeta was at a loss on how to rid his mind of these tantalizing visions that continued to creep inside regardless of how hard he tried to clear his mind of them.

What he feared was that this. . ._hunger_ would not be sated until he _fed. _ This meant he would have to face up to a couple of facts.  One, despite his best efforts, he couldn't train his way out of this feeling and two; he was going to have to somehow approach Bulma.  

The first was definitely easier to understand.  Hunger for food easily distracted any Saiyan from virtually all other activities; their bodies' high metabolism rates would have it no other way.  This other hunger was probably similar in nature and no doubt exacerbated by the fact that he'd never experienced it before.  Once he had satisfied himself—both his body and his curiosity (yes, he'd admit that) he would be able to resume his training without distraction.

The second part of the problem—approaching Bulma—was distinctly distasteful.  He was no sentimental human male to come courting Bulma Briefs with plants and confections in hand (or whatever other bizarre offerings this planet's females deemed worthy.)  He didn't want her "love";   he just wanted to rip off her clothes and get rid of this annoying, distracting LUST that had permeated his life the last week.  

And so, exactly one week after their fated first "date", Vegeta had run out of patience and any other ideas save one.  If this didn't work, well, he could just kill her, take the capsule and head for space.  It was becoming increasingly clear that he was making no progress under the present circumstances and (as he was constantly reminding himself this week) PROGRESS was the entire point of his stay on this pathetic little planet.  If he wasn't making progress, then Bulma, the Earth and everything else on it, had outlived their usefulness.  

At precisely four o'clock that day, Vegeta turned off the gravity room, walked over to the communication console and hit the button.

"Woman, the gravity machine in not working," he said, then he returned to the main chamber, ascended to the ceiling and waited.  

***********************************************************************

Thanks to all who were kind enough to review or email me feedback.  It's very motivating, so I hope to have another chapter soon.  

Extra special thanks and hugs to Ember for beta-ing. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer:  I don't own Dragonballz nor am I making any money off this story.  I'm just having a wee bit of fun. 

Warning:  The language and activities from here on out will probably be fairly adult.  I don't have it in me to write a full-blown lemon, but Trunks isn't found under a cabbage leaf, if you know what I mean.  *nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no MORE*

AFTER THE KISS

*Chapter 2* 

Bulma was at her desk in her home office when she heard Vegeta's voice.

"Woman, the gravity machine isn't working."

_Damn,_ she thought.  _Well, it was stupid to think my luck would hold out forever.  I might as well get it over with.  I knew I'd have to see him sometime._

She hit the intercom button.  "I'm on my way."

She got up, suddenly wishing she was wearing something other than cut-offs and a camisole.  She looked a mess, which definitely didn't boost her confidence for the upcoming encounter.

She entered the gravity room prepared for anything only to see that Vegeta wasn't there.  Relief flooded through her.  She didn't like working with him poking over her shoulder anyway and definitely didn't need the added pressure of embarrassment.  

Bulma entered the control room.  "Computer, start level one diagnostics."

"Diagnostics complete," the computer said.  "All systems are running within normal parameters."  

"What the. . . ?"  Bulma set the gravity meter to ten Gs, and turned the machine on.  

"Warning, gravity increase in three, two, one.  Gravity increased to ten Gs," the computer said.  

Bulma was furious. All her anxiety over seeing him again vanished to be replaced with anger.   "Goddamn idiot Saiyan," she said.  "Goddamn stupid, arrogant idiot Saiyan!  Like I don't have anything better to do than explain the incredibly basic concepts of "Off" and "On" to his mentally-challenged ass!"  She proceeded to turn the machine on and off, chanting "On! Off! On! Off! How incredibly difficult! How outrageously mind-boggling!"  She was so into her tirade that she didn't hear the control room door open and shut.  She just suddenly felt she was no longer alone.

She turned to see Vegeta standing near the door of the small control room.

"Why the fuck would you tell me the gravity machine is broken when it's not?" she demanded.

"I didn't say it was broken.  I said it wasn't working," he replied.

Bulma began to feel confused and more than a little self-conscious.  He was staring at her intently.  It wasn't quite anger on his face, but his expression was definitely starting to alarm her.

"Why on earth would you do that?" she asked.

"Because I wanted to make you come," he said.

Bulma eyes searched his face, wondering if he realized just how the woman that had spent the better part of a week fantasizing about him might interpret those words. But, no, his expression hadn't changed.  He just continued to stare at her with those intense black eyes.  

Then he began to walk slowly toward her and Bulma began to feel more than alarm, she felt fear.  Suddenly she very much didn't want to be incinerated and she began to babble an apology.

"Vegeta, I know you're angry about the other night. I'm sorry, I know you don't like to be touched, but you just made me so angry and I couldn't let you get away with it. . . "

Then she couldn't say any more, because Vegeta had backed her up to the wall, put his hands on either side of her face and began to kiss her thoroughly.  

Bulma's fear vanished and was instantly replaced by total and complete response to his kiss.  This was what she'd been fantasizing about, dreaming of—this total and complete _possession_.

Vegeta broke off the kiss after a few moments and looked at her.  

"That shut you up," he said.  "Could it be I've finally found the "Off" button?"

Bulma gave a half laugh.  "No, I'm definitely turned on."

He seemed pleased by her response and rewarded her by kissing her some more, this time taking his hands from the wall and putting them on her body, caressing her curves.  They came to rest on her bottom, which was pulled into his hips, pressing her against his arousal.

_This is it_, Bulma thought.  _This is what I've wanted all week._

She traced her hands up his arms and caressed his shoulders just as she'd fantasized. A chorus of _yes, yes, yes_ filled her mind.  It felt so good, so right.  She was vaguely aware of movement and realized she was being moved from the control room to the efficiency apartment she had put in back of it.  

A chorus of _no, no, no_ filled her brain. _ You might want this, but you can't really do this! Get a hold of yourself, girl!_

For the second time in a week, Bulma pushed herself out of Vegeta's arms.

"No," she said breathlessly.  "We can't do this.  I can't do this."

Vegeta was totally confused.  One minute Bulma was in his arms just the way he wanted and the next she was across the room and her lips were definitely forming the word "No."  It made no sense.  

"I'm confused," he said after he took a couple of calming breaths.  "By your response I believed that you wanted me."  

Bulma gave a hysterical laugh.  "Of course I want you.  Geez, you've got the body of a god and you've got both the "bad boy" and "little boy lost" thing going.  Yeah, I want you."

"Little boy lost?" Vegeta asked.

Bulma sighed, exasperated. Leave it to Vegeta to totally miss the point and focus in on some perceived slight.  

"It's a look you get in your eyes sometimes.  I'm probably the only one who's noticed it, so don't worry, your reputation as a tough guy is safe."  

"Then why can't we do this?"  Vegeta was appalled at the note in his voice.  Was that _whining_?

"Because. . ." she looked at him, incredulous that he could be missing the real point.  "Vegeta, we don't even LIKE each other."

"That's a prerequisite?" he asked, moving closer to her.

"Normally, yes.  People just don't sleep with people they don't like."  

He was beside her now and lazily traced a finger across her chest from one shoulder to another.  

"I like you," he said softly.

His voice was soft and husky and even though Bulma was certain he was deliberately speaking that way to break her down, saying things he knew she wanted to hear so she would give in, she found herself responding to it.

"Vegeta," she said, looking into his eyes. "It wasn't so long ago you were hell-bent on destroying my world.  I can't forget that.  And no matter how hard I try, I can't get rid of the feeling that if we. . . do this, one morning I'm going to come downstairs and find that you've ripped my heart from my chest and you're eating it for breakfast.  And when I have the nerve to call you on it, you look at me with your deep, black eyes and say 'You foolish girl.  What did you expect?'"

Vegeta's lips quirked into an almost smile.  "An interesting theory," he said, moving his lips to her ear.

"But you got one thing wrong," he whispered.  "_I'm not interested in eating your heart._"  

Bulma pulled back to look into his eyes and saw the promise there and suddenly she knew she would _die_ if she didn't have him.  She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and bid sanity goodbye.  

When she opened them again, he was watching her closely, waiting for her decision.  She tilted her head slightly and brushed her lips with his.  She pulled back and waited for him to make the next move.

"You'll have to do better than that, Bulma," he said in that same soft voice.  "I'll not have you saying I took advantage of you."

Bulma swallowed.  Maybe that was what she had wanted; for him to kiss her until all thought fled so she could plead insanity later.  Her eyes roamed his face and body.  Then she gave in to fantasy, dipped her head and ran her tongue up his bicep, to his shoulder, then down to his chest where she twirled it around his nipple before finishing with a light, brief suck.  Then she lifted her head, looked in his eyes and said, "I've been dreaming of doing that all week."

Vegeta began to feel real fear— the sight and feel of her small, pink tongue running over his body had a more powerful effect than he could ever have imagined.  It was such a small caress and he was no longer certain that he could control the feeling that had been born this week--this outrageous lust, the uncontrollable desire for this human.  He was only certain he would _die_ if he didn't have her.

"That'll do," he managed to choke out.  Then he picked her up and brought her to his bed.

**************************************************************

As first times go, it was not romantic.  It was hard and fast and oh, so satisfying.  A week of sexual speculation had done its work and now the only thing that mattered was the incredible need to HAVE the other.  

When it was over, when all that was left was to collapse and breathe, Bulma would think absently that her top had never made it off.  It had just been pushed out of the way.  

Vegeta lay on top of Bulma in a stunned state of fulfillment.  _Now_ he understood. . . . 

He became aware of Bulma's hands pressing against his chest.  

". . .too heavy. . ." 

Vegeta obligingly rolled to one side. . .and off the bed.

Bulma sat up at Vegeta's spill (accompanied by a decidedly un-royal yelp) and peered over the bed.

"Are you hurt?"  

Vegeta quirked an eyebrow as if to say "you've gotta be kidding.", but answered, "Only my pride."

"Gee, and here I thought that was indestructible,"  Bulma said.

"Ha-ha."  Vegeta pulled up to his knees beside the bed.  "We need a bigger bed."

Bulma silently agreed.  She'd put a tiny twin bed in his apartment out of spite because he was so nasty to her after he recovered from the gravity room explosion.  She regretted it now.

"I have a bigger bed," she said before she could stop herself.

Vegeta eyed her skeptically.  "Was that an invitation?"

Bulma licked her lips nervously.  Was it?  

"That depends," she said.  "Can you be discreet?"

At his bewildered stare, she elaborated.  "What I mean is, well. . . I know this may be hard to believe given my age, but I'm not in the habit of bringing boys back to my room.  It IS still my parent's house. Yamcha had his own place and, well, you've GOT your own place but the bed is woefully inadequate and there's not room for a bigger. . "

Vegeta took pity on Bulma and held up his hand.  "I understand what you mean.  Yes, I'm capable of being "discreet" as you call it.  Believe it or not, even where I come from sleeping with a man's daughter is a poor way to repay him for his hospitality.

"I will ask the same question of you.  I'll not have my business bandied about as gossip for Kakarrot's wife or any of the other people you call "friends."

Bulma wanted to reply that Chi-chi was the last person to whom she'd reveal she had slept with Vegeta.  Actually she didn't think she wanted anyone to know.  

"No one needs to know, "she answered.  "This is our business.  Does that mean you accept?"  

"Perhaps.  I will consider it."  He stood up.  "Since you have so excellently shown me that the gravity machine is working, you should leave.  I must train."  He handed her her shorts, found his own and began to dress.

Bulma took her shorts wordlessly.  She put her clothes on and glanced at Vegeta, but he'd gone into his bathroom and shut the door.  _So much for hearts and flowers.__  Well, what did you expect?  Would you be any happier if he'd said "Thanks for the great time, Bulma.  I'll call you."?  No, you got what you wanted—a fabulous fuck from that incredibly handsome, dangerous man.  Your problem is that you want more of the same and you want him to want more too.  _Bulma gave a little chuckle as she left the gravity chamber.  _Well, he definitely knows where I live.  He knows where to find me if he wants me. _ She crossed her fingers and wished.  _Please let him want me_

*************************************************************

Author's note:  Once again a big thank you to all of you who have sent me your feedback on this story.  It's very motiviating and I appreciate every bit of it.  

Extra-special thanks and hugs to Ember for beta-ing.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer:  I don't own Dragonballz nor am I making any money off this story.  I'm just having a wee bit of fun. 

AFTER THE KISS

*Chapter 3* 

Bulma waited the next two nights in her bed, powdered, perfumed and wearing something suitably sexy.  Both times she fell asleep waiting.  

She was oddly disappointed.  _I suppose I should be glad one of us came to our senses and realized any kind of protracted contact would only wind up with one of us crazy—or dead.  I just wish. . . ._

_Wish what? _ Her brain said.  _That you'd never slept with him?_

No, not that.  She didn't regret sleeping with him, she just . . .

Bulma didn't know how she felt.  Perhaps if she'd led a less charmed existence she might be able to recognize the feeling of wanting something you can't have.  Money paved a lot of roads and opened a lot of doors and frankly, Bulma was very used to getting everything she wanted.  Whether it was possessions, knowledge or men, if Bulma wanted it, she got it.

However, here was something she couldn't buy, someone who wasn't intimidated by the considerable influence the Briefs name aroused.    The strongest men on the planet cowered when she yelled, but this man yelled right back.  This man could tell (and apparently had told) her "no."

_I wish I could forget_, she thought.  She knew if she slept with a hundred men she would never want anyone as desperately as she wanted Vegeta.  She used to laugh at the girls in college who were so dick-whipped all they could think about were their boyfriends.  She wasn't laughing now.  Rather than fantasy, now her brain was filled with _reality_—the sound of his voice, his hands on her breasts, the completeness that she had felt as he filled her.  

_I should be glad_, she thought on the third night after the "gravity room incident" (as she now termed it).  _The last thing I need is an affair with a self-absorbed alien._

She put on one of her comfy nightshirts and crawled into bed.  There was no point in staying awake so she rolled over and went to sleep.  

****************************************************************************

If there was one thing Vegeta was getting sick and tired of, it was being surprised.

He was training furiously in the gravity room (using one of the computer simulations provided by _her,_) valiantly trying to wear out his body so he'd be too tired to consider giving in to his desire to accept Bulma's invitation to her larger bed.  

It had worked the last two nights.  The first night he'd been lucky enough to crack a rib when he'd misjudged a training robot's feint.  Unfortunately his Saiyan physiology had healed it by noon and it didn't look like he was going to receive any libido-threatening injuries today. Fatigue was his only hope.

So he trained.  He battled robots and computer-generated enemies until he could hardly stand.  When he collapsed to the floor though, the recurring thought was always how good Bulma's hands would feel caressing his exhausted flesh.  How the sweet scent of _her_ would wash away the aroma of blood and sweat that constantly assaulted his senses. . .a_nd it'd be good. . . ._

Now he knew how good.  Now he understood.  He just hadn't expected it to be so. . . _consuming_.  Of course he had known, academically, that it would be pleasurable.  Although the primary function of sex was procreation, the primary reason most sentient beings had sex was for _pleasure_.  He should have been better prepared.  Maybe if he'd been less finicky about sexual partners in the past he might not have been so surprised at wanting her again moments after he'd had her the first time.

She'd just looked so delicious laying in his bed, propped up on one elbow, nude except for that ridiculous top they'd pulled up out of the way, babbling some justification for him to be _discreet, _of all things.    All he could think about was having her again.  

Instead, he'd shooed her from the gravity room and hid in his bathroom so she couldn't see the evidence of his renewed desire.  Cowardly, he knew, but he'd been too surprised that finally having her had done very little to curb his lust.  In fact, it seemed to have fueled it.  _And she was offering a sexual liaison of sorts._  An indulgence he would have scorned a week ago as, well, _weak_.  

However, this lust burned so brightly, it was difficult to ignore and even harder to understand.  Vegeta searched his mind for something to compare it to and came up with a class "O" star, massive and hot, with a ridiculously short life span.  Most of the customers for cleared planets came from Class "O" star systems since the stars burned themselves out so soon, taking the planets as well. . . 

He paused.  _Ridiculously short life spans?__  Of course!  This unreasonable attraction to Bulma Briefs could only burn itself out.  There was no way it could sustain itself for any period of time.  After all, they didn't even LIKE each other.  Fueling the fire could only make it burn out quicker, right?  By indulging himself with this sexual liaison, he could effectively end it sooner.  _

Vegeta pulled himself up off the floor and went to shower.  He'd already wasted two days.  

*********************************************************************************

Someone was trying to break into her room.  

Bulma was awakened by the sound of something outside her room.  She froze; waiting to see if whatever it was (an animal, perhaps?) would pass on by.  It didn't and now it was fiddling with her window.

Bulma quietly got out of bed and looked around for something to use as a weapon.  She eyed the lamp on her nightstand and wished she'd been thinking, "That'll be handy" rather than "That'll be cute!" when she had picked it out.  It was better than nothing though, so she unplugged it and held it like a club, ready to smite whoever was dumb enough to invade her room.

A shower of glass hit the carpet and the intruder crawled in.

Bulma lowered the lamp.

"Vegeta, what are you doing here?!"

He crossed his arms and gave her a pointed look.  "I was under the impression I was invited."

"Oh. . .um, yeah.  I guess after two days I'd given up hope. . ." she clamped her mouth shut.  He didn't need to know she'd been awake waiting for him the past two nights.  She busied herself with plugging in her lamp and turning it on.  "Did you have to break my window?  There are other ways of entering the building, you know."

"You're right.  I probably should have gone in the kitchen door, through the living room where your parents are still watching TV.  That'd be really _discreet_," he mocked.  He poked the shattered glass with a toe.  "I really didn't try to break it, I just got lucky." 

"Ha-ha.  You're lucky it's warm tonight, otherwise it could get a little chilly in here," Bulma paused, unsure what to say next.  What do you say to a man expressly invited to your room for the purpose of having sex?  _So, are you ready to get it on?_ _ Wait here while I slip into something more comfortable? _ She suddenly remembered she was wearing her old nightshirt that said "Daddy's Little Princess."  _How embarrassing._  She vowed to burn it the next day.  

"You do have a big bed," Vegeta said.  

Relieved to have an actual topic of conversation (lame though it was), Bulma said, "It's a king-size."  

Vegeta looked at her and grinned. "How appropriate."  

  
Bulma rolled her eyes.  "I see your pride healed up just fine."  

He shrugged, dismissed the bed and looked at her.  "The bed appears adequate. " He motioned with his hand at her nightshirt.  "Take that off."  

Bulma was immediately offended.  He wanted her to strip like some slave on an auction block?  "Excuse me?"

"That ridiculous garment.  Remove it. . . or I will."  

_Decision time, Bulma!  Stay offended and order him from the room or do as he asks, well, ordered?  _Something told her that if she turned him out, she'd never have another opportunity.  _Well, what have you got to hide?  What good is it to have a personal trainer if you're still embarrassed to be seen naked?  _

Vegeta watched Bulma's thoughts dance across her features.  He wondered if she'd do as he asked.  She might just rescind her invitation and show him the door, well, the _window_.  He hoped vanity—and lust—would win over pride.  He was not disappointed.

He watched Bulma's chin lift slightly (_was that a challenge?_) as she grabbed the hem of the nightshirt and pulled it over her head.  She dropped the nightshirt on the floor and glared at him, daring him to make some comment.  

He didn't though.  His gaze floated over her body, from her head to her feet, then back again.  

"Care to check my teeth?" Bulma asked tartly.

Vegeta lips turned up at the comment and he gave a small shake of his head.  He walked toward her and stopped when they were almost nose to nose.  His left hand reached to softly touch her womanhood.

"Why Bulma Briefs," he breathed, "Your hair really is blue."

Bulma moved to slap him.  He caught her hand easily.

"Do you want to strike me, Bulma?" he said.  His thumb lightly stroked the palm of the hand he'd caught.

"Yes," she ground out.  "You are such an asshole."

"I am, aren't I?" he agreed.  "You know, I think you want me because I'm an asshole."

"No, I don't. I want you because. . . "Words failed her.  _Why did she want him?_  Her brain quickly ran through the usual suspects--good looks, great body, quick wit—and dismissed them all, leaving her with no real answer to her question.  

"I don't think it matters why I want you," she said.  She'd had enough of his button-pushing game for one evening.  She could never win that game with him anyway.  She pushed aside her irritation and decided to change the game to one she could win.  Heh, one they could both win.

"I think all that matters is this," she gave him a soft, wet kiss.  "And this," she placed his hands on her breasts.  He brushed his thumbs across her nipples and she rewarded him with a soft moan.  She reached down to caress his manhood, "And this."  

"Nothing else matters," she kissed him again and placing her hands on his chest, she gently pushed him towards her bed until he was forced to sit down.  She pushed him back until he was lying down, and then turned off the lamp on her bedside table.  She crawled back to him and lay on top of him.  

"In the dark, nothing matters," she whispered, "but this."  Then she kissed him.  

"Touch me," she commanded.  "Show me what matters."

So he did.

*********************************************************************************

Ten days later, Bulma was walking through Capsule Corp.'s corporate offices marveling at how much had changed—and how little.  The fights, the name-calling, and the threats of bodily harm--they were all there in full force.  Bulma really hadn't expected them to stop, but now there was an added layer to all their encounters, a new dimension.  It felt so natural that Bulma wondered if this undercurrent hadn't been there all the time—they'd both just been too pig-headed to notice. _No wonder we kept blowing up at each other, we didn't the correct proportions in the formula.  All fighting and no making-up makes Jack a dull boy. . . ._

"Miss Briefs?"

Bulma snapped out of her reverie and looked at the young woman in front of her, trying to place her.  She was somebody's administrative assistant, but she couldn't remember whose.  

"The Sinusan project meeting is starting.  Mr. Carlisle wanted to know if you were still planning on attending?" the woman asked.

_Carlisle's assistant, that's who she was!  _Bulma checked her watch.  

"Yes, I am supposed to be there.  Thank you for finding me," Bulma said and headed off toward the conference rooms.  

_You have got to stop doing that, girl!_ her brain scolded.  _That would've been the third meeting in ten days. _ 

_I can't help it_, she thought.  She glanced at the passing faces as she made her way through the corridor.  

_I have a lover_, she silently told the strangers who worked for her.  _Not a boyfriend, a lover. . .a secret lover. _ She smiled at some sixty-something woman at the coffee machine.  _You have no idea what I do at night, do you dearie?_ _What I do with my incredible sexy secret lover?_

_A lover you know virtually nothing about_, her brain said, _and what you do know isn't going to win him the Nobel Peace Prize.  That bothers you.  That's why you zone out so much.  You don't want to think about how bloody those hands caressing your flesh really are_.  

_He's not like that anymore. I know it.  That's all I need to know.  _

_Bullshit,_ her brain said. _You're just itching to know all about him._  

"Miss Briefs?"  

Bulma's attention came back to the present.  She was standing in the conference room.

"Did you want to take a seat?" Carlisle asked.

Bulma smiled sheepishly and took a seat.

_You think I don't know anything about him? I can fix that.  I'm Bulma Briefs.  Fixing things is my specialty.  _

*********************************************************************************************

_If I had known sleeping with the bitch was going to accelerate my progress_, Vegeta thought, _I would have taken her on Namek_.  He grinned as he finished the new program Bulma had given him yesterday.  _What a squawk she would have made,_ he thought, thinking of how she might have reacted to him on Namek.

He powered up, feeling the increase in his ki.  He was nearing some threshold, he could feel it.  _Soon_, he thought, _soon I will be the Legendary.  Then Kakarrot's fate will be sealed._  

He wiped his face with a towel and thought about showering and going to Bulma's room.  He supposed he should have been dismayed that the attraction hadn't worn off yet, but surprisingly he wasn't.  _Who knew the woman could be so inventive?_ He grinned again.  _And so responsive._ . . .

The progress he was making didn't make sense, considering he was actually training for less time a day than before he began going to Bulma's bed. All his life he'd trained till he dropped and the minute he could stand again he was back at it.  There was one trainer who had tried to curb this practice, a sensei Frieza had supplied before Vegeta had permanently pissed off the lizard and such gifts were withdrawn.  

"Balance, Prince Vegeta," the sensei had said.  Denri, that'd been the sensei's name.  "You must learn to balance yourself—too much on one side and you will fall.  You must balance such hard training with rest or you will always fail."

Vegeta wondered what happened to old Denri, then his brows furrowed as he remembered that he'd killed him. Vegeta actually felt some remorse about it now.  Maybe Denri had been onto something after all.  While sex with Bulma could never be called "rest" it certainly qualified as a less strenuous activity than his training regimen.  Maybe it was providing the "balance" he needed to get stronger.  Who would've thought such mumbo-jumbo could be true?  

In the end, the reason for his progress didn't matter.   He was getting stronger.  He would fulfill his destiny and THAT was what mattered.  

********************************************************************************

Chapter 4 is in progress and hopefully will be out soon.  Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review or send me feedback on this story.  I truly appreciate it.  It makes writing it worthwhile.

Extra big thanks and hugs to Ember for beta-ing.  


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer:  I don't own Dragonballz nor am I making any money off this story.  I'm just having a wee bit of fun. 

AFTER THE KISS

*Chapter 4* 

Bulma mentally ran down her checklist for her scheme:  lunch in capsule, cute outfit (sexy, but not slutty:  White shorts with modest halter top and sandals,) picnic paraphernalia in capsule, air car in capsule.  Perfect.  Now all she had to do was get one more thing:  Vegeta.

Ever since her brain reminded her that she didn't know anything about Vegeta, she'd been racking her brain for a plan to rectify the situation.  She knew it would have to take place during the day (since they were otherwise occupied at night and Vegeta never stayed for "pillow talk",) and that meant that she'd have to interrupt his training. She could shut down the equipment, but that would just piss him off and then she'd never get anything out of him.  That meant she would need to lure him out somehow and there was only one kind of bait she knew of that was strong enough to do that:  food.  

So she packed up a picnic, picked out the destination and set out to beard the lion in his den.  

She went to the gravity room and hit the intercom beside the door.

"Hey Vegeta, come out here.  I need to talk to you."

Pause.

"Fuck off!"

"Come on, Vegeta.  It'll be worth it." 

"I doubt it."

"Come see. . .you know you want to."

A second later the gravity room door swung open and Vegeta stood there in his training shorts, a fine sheen of sweat covering his body.

"What?"

"I just thought you might want to go on a picnic."

"A what?"

"A picnic.  It means you eat outdoors."

"No thanks," he said and started to shut the door.

Bulma would not be deterred and stuck her foot in the door.

"Come on, Vegeta," she waggled a capsule.  "You have to eat sometime."

"What's that?"

"It could be four dozen of Mrs. Woo's dumplings that you like so well.  Why don't you come and find out?"  She waggled the capsule again.

He looked at her suspiciously, then vanished back into the gravity room.  Bulma had no sooner taken one step to follow when Vegeta reappeared, now wearing a tank top.  

"Fine.  I'm outside.  Give me the capsule."  

"Not here, Vegeta.  It's not much of a picnic if you eat on your doorstep.  There's someplace I want to take you," Bulma said and popped her air car's capsule.

"We have to take that?"

"Get in.  It's not far," Bulma said, jumping behind the wheel. 

Before long they'd left the city for the forested countryside.  A large house came into view and Bulma veered the car toward it and set it down in the driveway.

"We're here," she announced, jumping out of the car.

"Where is 'here'?"  Vegeta asked.

"This is where I grew up, well, till I was ten or so," she began walking toward the trees behind the house.  

"My dad built this place when I was four, after he became sure capsules weren't going to be fad," she said.

The trees opened up on a beautiful garden.  There was a koi pond in the center, spanned by an arched bridge.  All manner of flowering plants and bushes surrounded the pond.  Their scent filled the air.  

_This is perfect,_ Bulma thought.  _This is such a genius idea!_

"Dad built this garden for my mom, to thank her for standing by him during the lean development days.  She spent a lot of time here before we moved to the city."

"Why did you move?"

"It was just easier.  Dad was working all hours and she wanted to be with him rather than waiting out here."   

"The nitwit?"  Vegeta asked.

"Hey, my mom is not a nitwit!"

"No!  The food outdoors that you promised me!"

"Oh.  Picnic, Vegeta, picnic," Bulma laughed.  She began popping capsules and spread out the blanket and set out the food.

Vegeta dug in wordlessly and Bulma knew better than to try to draw him into a conversation while he was eating.  So she nibbled a dumpling and sipped water, waiting for him to finish, which he did in record time.

"I'm done.  Let's go back," he said.

"Vegeta, we just got here!  It's a gorgeous day.  Come on, sit down and relax for five minutes. It won't kill you, I promise."  

"No, the only thing in immediate danger of being killed is YOU if we don't go back."

"Vegeta, please?  It's so beautiful here," she put on her sexiest pout, realizing she was about to blow her carefully crafted plan.

Vegeta hesitated.  "Five minutes?"

Bulma nodded and Vegeta sat back down on the blanket. Bulma laid down on her side and propped up on one elbow in what she hoped was a casual manner.  

"So. . . was Planet Vegeta like Earth?" she asked.

"No."

"So what was it like?"  

"Different."  

"How different?" Bulma was getting irritated now.

"Look, woman, if this "picnic" is all an elaborate set-up to get me to tell you my life story, give it up.  I'm not going to do it, no matter how much food you give me or how much you pout and bat your eyelashes," he said.

"Why not?" 

Vegeta got up.  "I think five minutes has passed."

"Godammit, Vegeta!" Bulma stood up.  "What's so wrong with telling me something about yourself?  I hardly know anything about you and I've been fucking your brains out for over a week.  I don't want to psychoanalyze you, but what's so wrong with a few basic details?  Hell, I don't even know what your favorite color is!" 

Vegeta sighed.  "If I told you that would you shut up?"

"Yes."  

Vegeta paused and appeared to be collecting his thoughts.  Bulma's irritation grew. _Why does everything have to be a big deal to him?  This is not a tough question._

"By rights my favorite color should be gold.  It is the color of the Royal House of Vegeta," he paused and looked at Bulma intently.  "No, I don't think I'll tell you.  You will make too much of it."  

"What?  Are you going to tell me it's red because it's the color of blood or something gory like that?"

"No."

"Then what is it?  I won't make a big deal out of it, I swear.  Whatever it is, I can take it," she promised.

Vegeta raised a dubious eyebrow, then continued speaking.  "Like I said, it should be gold, but. . . I have always been partial to," he looked directly at her.  "Blue."

"Awww. . " Bulma was touched.

"See, I said you would make too much of it," Vegeta said and began walking back to where she'd parked the air car. 

Bulma hurried to catch up.

"I am not making too much of it."  She insisted.

"Yes, you are. You immediately thought I chose blue because of your freakish coloring," he said.

"MY COLORING IS NOT FREAKISH!" Bulma shouted.  Kami, what a fuckarow this had turned into.  She should have known better than to try to have a real conversation with Vegeta.  Now he was in a fine snit and although she didn't think she could salvage anything out of it, she'd put so much effort into this little excursion she had to try.

"Vegeta," she grabbed his arm.  Luckily, he stopped at her touch, otherwise he might have dragged her into the dirt.  

"I'm not making anything of it," she said, "but if my _unique_ coloring somehow pleases you because you favor blue, then that pleases me."  

Vegeta took a deep breath and he gave a small shake of his head as if he were dismissing his anger.  

"You would please me more," he said, "if you would keep you mouth shut."

Bulma smiled.  "Now Vegeta, you know I can't do that.  I distinctly remember some of the things that please you most require my mouth to be open."  She reached out to stoke his cheek with the back of her fingers.

He slapped her hand away. "Stop that!  Stop trying to change the subject."

Bulma went from zero to irritated in .04 seconds.

"What?  I get it already!  You don't want to talk about yourself.  Sheesh!  You know, most people _like_ to talk about themselves."

"I am the last Prince of Planet Vegeta.  I am NOT 'most people'" Vegeta said.

"Riiiight. . .I'll keep that in mind. Look, give me a sec to get the picnic stuff and we'll go, OK?"  

"Don't rush on my account.  As you keep telling me, it's a 'gorgeous day'.  Enjoy it."  Vegeta blasted on in a rush of ki.

Bulma tracked him with her eyes as long as she could and determined he was not headed in the direction of Capsule Corp.

_Just fucking great_, she thought.  _Nice work Bulma. So much for your genius plan to find out more about him.  _

She walked back to the garden to gather the picnic stuff.  When she finished, she took another look at the garden.  _It's so pretty here, _she thought. _ What the hell?  It is a gorgeous day and I'm going to enjoy it, damnit!_

She got out the blanket again, unhooked her halter to avoid tan lines and laid down for a nap in the sun.  

_Well, I did learn one thing about him—he doesn't like to talk about himself, s_he thought as she drifted off to sleep. _ And he likes blue_.

****************************************************************************

Vegeta was still fuming after his third revolution of the Earth.  It was tricky to fly at a speed that would satisfy his anger and yet keep his ki at a level he thought was low enough not to arouse concern in any of the "Z-fighters".  The last thing he need was a confrontation with Kakarrot.

Damn nosey bitch!  He had sensed something was up the minute he'd heard her voice on the intercom.  He became positive when he'd yanked open the door to see her standing there in her carefully chosen outfit.  His first instinct had been to slam the door, but his damned curiosity got the better of him.  Well, that and four-dozen dumplings.  

_I should have realized this would happen,_ he thought.  _The woman is not capable of leaving well-enough alone. Always out to "improve" something, turn it into something she thinks is better.  Well, if she thinks she can turn me into a "boyfriend",_ his lips curled in distaste, _she can look for another candidate.  I refuse to be a fawning lapdog for that human!_

"Hey, Vegeta!"

Vegeta pulled up and turned around.  His speed had drawn the person he least wanted to run into.

"Kakarrot.  What an unpleasant surprise.  If there's one thing I don't need today, it's another surprise."  

"What's been surprising you?  I guess it's not a good surprise, because you don't seem very happy."  

"I'm never happy, Kakarrot.  Unless you'd like to oblige me with a fight?"  Vegeta asked.

"Spar?  Sure, just let me—"

He couldn't finish with Vegeta's boot in his mouth, which made Vegeta quite happy.  Kakarrot's mouth ran almost as much as the woman's. 

 **********************************************************************************

Bulma waited outside the gravity room in the dark, wishing Vegeta would hurry up and return so she could get this over with.  She'd awakened from her nap with a new perspective on her "plan" and realized that her picnic really had been nothing but a deceitful set-up to get Vegeta to talk to her.  He had realized it almost immediately and if she'd been thinking clearly she would have realized how transparent she was being.  No wonder he was offended.  He hated subterfuge.  He liked things up front and in the open.  Honest.

The more Bulma thought about the afternoon and what had gone wrong, the more she realized she really did know quite a lot about Vegeta.  Oh, not the things she was trying to find out, like "_what was Planet Vegeta like?"_ (geez, what a lame-ass question!) But things about his character, his like and dislikes.  He was honest and forthright, he had a great work ethic, he was proud (also a fault, but Bulma could appreciate being proud of who you are.)  She could compile a list a mile long of food or things he liked or didn't like.  Not that he ever actually said he liked anything, but you could just tell by the lack of derogatory comments about something or the fact that he kept it and didn't throw it at your head that he found it acceptable.  

There was still the nagging knowledge that he'd probably killed more people than had ever lived on the Earth.  She wasn't sure how to reconcile that with the lover who came to her bed.  _Funny, you'd think with his violent background I should have been concerned that might extend to the bedroom, but it never even crossed my mind._  _He was just like I expected:  intense, passionate and responsive.  I guess I've screwed that up for good.  I doubt he'll trust me now not to have some scheme up my sleeve._  Bulma sighed.  

_I have to try though_, she thought and continued her vigil in the darkness.  

Vegeta descended slowly and landed near the gravity room.  _At least the day wasn't a total loss,_ he thought.  His spar with Kakarrot had gone well, his new strength evident in every move.  Kakarrot had even commented on his new strength, wondering aloud what training regimen had produced such impressive results.  It was on the tip of Vegeta's tongue to smart back "Why, I've been fucking your friend!" but chose instead to remain silent.  Whatever gratification he might get from seeing the look on Kakarrot's face would pass as soon as the imbecile opened his mouth to comment (probably to ask when he and Bulma were "going to get married" or some insane drivel like that.)  

As that thought crossed his mind, he glanced toward Bulma's window.  The lights were off; she'd gone to bed.  He knew he'd find no welcome there.  She was sure to be in a spitting fury after the way he'd taken off and left her today.  Of course, she'd deserved it, putting on that charade just to question him.  He had left all that duplicitous bullshit behind at Frieza's court and he'd be damned before he put up with it here.  

"Vegeta?"

He searched the dark and located her in the shadows.  Something about the tone in her voice put his back up. 

"You know, you should have fucked off the first time I told you today.  Let's see if you've learned your lesson:  Fuck off."  He was at the gravity room door now, two seconds and he'd be rid of her, whether or not she'd learned her lesson.

"I just want to apologize," Bulma said quickly.  

Vegeta paused, and then turned towards her.  Bulma saw her chance and stepped from the shadows, walking toward him.

"I'm sorry about today," she said.  "I shouldn't have tried to set you up like that.  First of all, I should have realized what a lame plan it was and that you'd see through it right away and second, it's wrong for me to try to trick you into telling me things.  I should know by now that you don't like to be pestered with personal questions and that you'd like it even less wrapped up in some scheme designed to dupe you into answering them."  Bulma stopped in front of him and waited for him to speak.  

"Bulma, if you want to know something, you should just ask," Vegeta said finally.

"Will you answer?"  

"Probably not," he said.  "But I'm an asshole, as you are so fond of reminding me."  Vegeta found himself almost smiling.  Everything was not lost.  She'd realized her mistake and apologized.  "Give me a minute to shower and I'll join you in your room."  

"You mean I haven't permanently pissed you off?  I thought for sure you'd be running for the hills after my little stunt today. "  

"Bulma, you've permanently pissed me off from the day we returned from Namek and Saiyans never run.  Besides, "he leaned toward her ear.  "I remember you said something about a list of things that please me most.  I thought perhaps we could compare notes."  

Heat flooded through Bulma as she felt his breath on her ear.  He was still hers, at least for now.  

"Why don't you use the shower in my room?" she asked.  She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward her window.  "I just thought of a new game called "Soapy Saiyan" that I promise will be worth playing."  

"All right.  But don't get angry when I change the rules and turn it into 'Soapy Bulma,' he shot back.

"I'm counting on it," she answered.  

********************************************************************************************

Later, after the game had moved from the bathroom to the bedroom, and the two teams were exhausted from the mutual victory, Vegeta spoke in the darkness.

"It was large."

"What?" Bulma murmured. She was surprised Vegeta was still there, resting his head on her chest, his arm around her waist. 

"Planet Vegeta.  You wanted to know what it was like.  It was large, four times larger than Earth, circling a red giant sun we called Vegat.  There wasn't much vegetation due to the sunlight's spectrum.  There were great cities.   The capital was on a large ocean called Brean."  He fell silent.  

"It sounds nice," Bulma said, feeling the need to say something, but not knowing what.

"You would have hated it.  It was everything your green, peaceful world isn't," he said. 

Something about these revelations must have disturbed him, because shortly after he became restless, retrieved his clothes and left.  Bulma wasn't sure whether it was the memory of his destroyed world or the fact that he'd told her about it that disturbed him.  She didn't go to sleep for a long time. 

There was an unacknowledged shift in their relationship that night. Perhaps it was when Bulma swallowed her pride enough to admit her mistake and apologize to Vegeta.  Maybe it was when Vegeta realized that he wanted to answer Bulma's question.  It didn't matter.  They had reached a turning point and now there was no going back. 

******************************************************************************

Thanks to all who have reviewed or emailed me feedback.  I can't tell you how much it means to know someone is enjoying this story.  It's actually been in my head almost two years and it's been fun to put it on paper, well, on the computer.  

Obviously, this limbo state can't go on forever and the angst is about to start.  Thanks for reading. 

As always, super-big thanks and hugs to Ember for beta-ing.  


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer:  I don't own Dragonballz nor am I making any money off this story.  I'm just having a wee bit of fun. 

AFTER THE KISS

*Chapter 5* 

Vegeta was dreaming.

It was a good dream.  It was one he'd had on and off throughout his life.  In this dream he is the Legendary Super Saiyan and he is kicking Frieza's ass.  There is one addition this time:  this time his hair glows gold as he had seen Kakarott's glow on Namek.

It was an epic battle, as usual.  Frieza met him blow for blow, transforming repeatedly in an effort to keep up with the awesome power of a Super Saiyan.  A familiar scene, soon to end in inevitable victory.

_"Die, you worthless monkey!"__ Frieza screamed, hurling a huge blast of ki toward Vegeta.  Vegeta batted it effortlessly away, advancing on his enemy._

_"Not until you bow before the Prince of all Saiyans!" Vegeta answered, readying another attack._

_"You're prince of NOTHING!  I made sure of that long ago, you arrogant shit!  You're nothing but an insignificant pest!  I should have exterminated you long ago with the rest of your kind.  I will remedy that mistake now!"  _

_"You will fail.  I am the Legendary Super Saiyan.  It is my destiny to destroy you and avenge my people," Vegeta laughed.  "Kill me?  You can't even touch me. I've already won, Frieza and you know it.  Admit defeat and bow before your prince!"_

_Frieza's eyes narrowed.  "You're right, I cannot defeat you in that form," he conceded.  "But you are not without weakness.  So I will find another way to hurt you."_

_In the crazy way of dreams, Frieza vanished and reappeared with a squirming Bulma in him arms.  _

_"Blast away, monkey boy," Frieza sneered.  "If you can."_

_"Vegeta!"__  Bulma screamed, struggling to free herself._

_"I'm waiting. . . . "Frieza sneered._

_Vegeta was frozen as a tumult of emotions gathered at the surface.  He looked at the blast in his hands and at Bulma's frantic face.  He heard Frieza's laughter ring in his ears, as it had rung virtually all his miserable life.  He had the final blast ready to shut that frozen fuck up for good and . . . he couldn't throw it._

_"I'm tired of waiting," Frieza said and ripped Bulma's body in two._

Vegeta sat up in bed, sweat covering his body.  It took just a moment to realize he'd fallen asleep in the woman's bed again.  She lay beside him peacefully, undisturbed by his sudden movement.  Vegeta swung his feet to the floor, rubbed his face with his hands. 

How had this happened?  When had it happened?  When had sexual play turned to this . ._ .caring?_  When had it started to matter whether she lived or died?  When had _she_ started to matter?  

He knew he would never know the answer.  It was three weeks since their first encounter and looking back nothing had really changed.  They met, they fucked, end of story.  To be honest with himself though, that was not precisely true.  He was aware of feeling a certain . . . anticipation at seeing her that he knew had nothing to do with impending sexual gratification.  That he had lingered long enough to fall asleep in her bed should have alarmed him the first time it happened, but he lied to himself about his fatigue from training or their bed-play and the greater comfort of her large bed.  

_Now, _Vegeta thought as he looked at the woman, _now I'm handicapped for battle.  All my work to become the strongest warrior in the universe is for naught if my enemies can defeat me without open battle.  I must rid myself of this weakness before it can be discovered and exploited.  _

_This must end now.  _Vegeta found his clothes and left Bulma's room without looking back. 

*******************************************************************

Vegeta flew to a remote location to determine how best to rid himself of his growing attachment to Bulma.  At first he tried very hard to pin down exactly why this feeling was growing, but discovered that he couldn't.  This feeling just _was_, it was woven into his being and he knew there was no way to cut out the feeling as if it were a tumor and leave the rest intact.  It all had to go. . . ._he_ had to go. 

There was no way he was strong enough to stay here, even after terminating this relationship (yes, that was the word, he could avoid it no longer,) with Bulma.  She would fight him for it, he knew.  She would argue and reason and cajole and eventually she would lay her slim white fingers on him, press her sweet-scented softness against him and he would lie to himself and give in.  He needed to end it permanently and in a way that would remove Bulma Briefs from his plate forever.  After he did that, he couldn't stay.  

So he developed a battle plan.  He took what he knew of Bulma and he carefully crafted a scene that would insure that Bulma would never, ever want to see his face again.  Then he returned to Capsule Corp. to prepare for his departure.  He contacted Mrs. Briefs and requested extra stores.  He personally inspected Capsule Four to determine if it was ready for space.  Finally, he retrieved the jacket he'd worn that fateful night when everything changed and found the piece of paper Kiara had given him.   After a few failed attempts at correctly operating the telephone, he finally reached her message system.

"Kiara.  This is Vegeta. I have decided to accept your offer. I will be leaving Earth soon, probably in the next seventy-two Earth hours.  I will monitor Galactic Channel Four for rendezvous coordinates."  

His tasks completed, he returned to the gravity room to train and wait for the inevitable encounter. 

**************************************************************************

Bulma was waiting again.  Vegeta hadn't shown up for two days and now she was getting concerned something was wrong.  He was here, she knew, because she'd heard the gravity machine going on and off;  but when it was turned off at night, rather than joining her in her room, Vegeta stayed away.  

Bulma wracked her brain trying to think if she'd done anything to piss him off.  She hadn't pestered him with any more questions about his past and their last encounter had been unremarkable—a few insults to get the blood pumping, then a little bit of everything else to get the rest pumping.  Even though she was alone, Bulma blushed at the memory.  _If sex is like ice cream, _she thought,_ then sex with Vegeta is like ice cream with hot fudge, whipped cream and a cherry.  It's just more . . .yummy.   _

_I guess I'll have to go see him and find out what I've done,_ she thought. _ I'll feel like an idiot five minutes after I speak to him I'm sure. I know this isn't forever, but I'm still having too much fun to let it slip away._  A new thought struck her:  _What if he's hurt?  What if he can't come?  He probably isn't, but at least I can use that as an excuse for checking on him. _

Confident that she could mask her visit in concern for his physical well-being, Bulma finally went to sleep.  

**********************************************************

He knew the moment she entered the machine.  He was in his room putting the last of the capsules he had prepared for his trip in something Bulma called a 'workout bag'.  He took a breath, flipped on the television and sat down on his bed, welcoming the encounter.  Now that his decision was made and the preparations for his departure were complete, he was eager to be on his way.  

"Hi, Vegeta," Bulma said from the doorway.

Vegeta glanced her way and gave a small nod acknowledging her presence, then turned his attention back to the television screen.  

Whatever Bulma had expected to find, it wasn't this:  Vegeta relaxing on his bed watching. . . hockey?  He clearly wasn't injured, which put her back at square one, which was wondering what had she done to screw everything up?  

"Hockey?" she asked, entering the room, but feeling like she was walking into some kind of warped fourth dimension.    

"It's similar to a game played on Frost," Vegeta said.  "A lot less blood here, of course, and no one ever dies."

"Of course," Bulma said.  _What was wrong here? This whole scene has suddenly become very surreal._

Bulma approached the bed.  "Are you OK?  You're not injured, are you?" she asked.

"I am well."

Another pause.  Bulma reached out tentatively to touch a shoulder.  "I've missed you the last two nights," she said.  

Vegeta shook off her hand with a small shrug.

"OK, what's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing's wrong.  I simply no longer require your services, that's all." Vegeta got up and turned off the television.  

"'Services'?" Bulma asked, confused.  "What are you talking about?  The gravity machine?  The robots?"

"The sex, Bulma.  Surely you remember?  I know it's been two days, but even I found the experience more memorable than that."  He was leaning a shoulder against the wall now, his arms crossed. 

"I remember," Bulma said.  What was wrong with her?  Suddenly her brain was in low gear and working more slowing by the second.  "I just never thought of it as 'services'."  

"Call it what you will.  At any rate, as pleasant as it was, it had become a little stale," Vegeta said.  _Where the hell is her anger? _he thought._  She should be screaming at me already. _ Confused as he was by her reaction, he pressed on with his plan.  "Although," he added, "if this whole science thing doesn't work out for you, I could recommend a few brothels in the West Quadrant.  You'd make a fortune as a courtesan."

"I already have a fortune, thank you," Bulma said softly.  Why was everything appearing to happen in slow motion? Where was her anger?  She should be furious.  She should have thrown him out five minutes ago and all she could do stand there with her eyebrows knitted together trying very hard to figure out what was wrong. Something was just not right about this and that's why she wasn't yelling or screaming. . .

Then suddenly she knew.  Her heart was breaking.

And from deep in the basement of her brain, something she'd kicked down the stairs and slammed the door on burst from her lips.

"I'm in love with you," she said.

Vegeta faltered for a moment at that, realizing that their game had gone much farther than either of them had ever intended.  _All the more reason to end it, _he thought_._

"Love?  Really?  Whatever possessed you to do a stupid thing like that?"  

"I don't know. . ." Bulma said.  "It was so. . .you were so. . ." she trailed off helplessly.  She had no idea what she was trying to say. Her brain still wouldn't function.  Her eyes began to burn with tears.  

Vegeta  moved to stand in front of her and looked in her eyes.  

"I was so. . .what?  Tender?" He stroked her cheek absently.  "Gentle?  Please, Bulma.  You hardly would have spread your lovely thighs had I been otherwise, would you?"  

Bulma looked into his eyes, eyes she was sure had once looked on her with warmth, even affection, only to find icy blackness.  _A stranger's eyes,_ she thought.  Her brain chose that moment to function, dredging up a long forgotten couplet to a sonnet she'd had memorize for some class.

_For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,_

_Who art as black as hell, as dark as night._

_Oh Kami, _she thought_.  What have I done?  _

Vegeta decided it was time for the _coup de grace_.  Although his opponent clearly wasn't going to put up a fight, he needed to end this and be on his way.  He leaned forward and breathed the words into her ear.

_"You foolish girl.__  What did you expect?"_

Bulma's eyes widened at his words and her anger finally awoke from whatever trance she'd been in.  She slammed both palms against his chest, pushing him out of her way and ran out of the gravity room.  She ran beyond the Capsule Corp. grounds.  She was ten blocks away, tears streaming down her face when she finally stopped and wondered why _she_ was running and went back to throw his ass out.  

By the time she got back, he was gone.  The apartment in the gravity room had been cleared of any sign that it had been occupied moments before.  A few hours later, crying alone in her room, she received a call from a supervisor at one of the hangers saying Capsule Four was missing.  Had she or Dr. Briefs perhaps ordered it relocated?

Bulma assured the supervisor that she did indeed know where the capsule had gone and not to worry.  She hung up the phone and looked out her window at the sky. _ I guess I was right about one thing,_ she thought.  _I felt like a fool five minutes after I talked to him. _

*********************************************************************************

Thank again to everyone who's reviewed or emailed me feedback.  It just makes my day to hear from you.  Also, thank to those who notified me about the italics.  It was supposed to be just a quick upload, check to see if it works, then delete the test.  Unfortunately, when I went to delete, it told me I was deleting all my reviews too and I couldn't do that, not when y'all took the time to leave them.  So the test stayed.  I'm going to try to replace Chapter 5 with this text, but if it tells me it's gonna delete reviews again, you'll see Chapter 6.  *whew* now I'm tired.

Extra-special thanks and hugs to Ember for beta-ing.  As many times as I go through this before I send it to her, she still finds errors that I would be mortified for the readers to see.  She's the best!  *blows kisses*


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer:  I don't own Dragonballz nor am I making any money off this story.  I'm just having a wee bit of fun. 

AFTER THE KISS

*Chapter 6* 

Bulma didn't leave her room for the next two days.  She spent her time crying, cursing herself for crying, then cursing Vegeta for turning out to be the lying creep she'd known he was all along.  When her mother checked on her, Bulma would only say she wasn't feeling well. This was the wrong thing to say since her mother decided to "mother" her even more—popping in every couple of hours with soup or liquids or medication.  Bulma finally feigned sleep in an effort to keep her mother at bay.  She just wanted to be left alone with her abject humiliation.  

After two days, Bulma decided her one-person pity party was over.  She got up, got dressed and went back to work.  She had lunch with friends.  She went shopping.  She told jokes and laughed at those told by others.  She encapsulated the gravity room and stuck it in a bottom drawer.  She almost destroyed it, but decided that the money and resources she had poured into it far outweighed any immature satisfaction she might get out of smashing it.  Besides, Goku or Gohan might want to use it one day.

When the television reports started about Kathleen Revenant, the world class opera diva who suddenly vanished without a trace, leaving several production companies and her record label in the lurch; Bulma knew where she'd gone.  Somehow, she knew Kathleen Revenant was with Vegeta and Bulma gave herself a huge pat on the back that the thought didn't make her jealous at all.  

Eight weeks later Bulma decided that she had done a fabulous job of getting over being suckered into being Vegeta's plaything.  After all, she was the only one on the planet who knew that she'd slept with him. It wasn't like anyone else would ever find out—Kami knows she'd chew off her own arm before she'd admit it to anyone else.  Occasionally she would wonder what would happen when Vegeta came back—and he _would_ come back, she was certain.  Goku was here and the one thing she knew he didn't lie about was his obsessive need to kill Goku.  She didn't worry over the confrontation though; she had faith in her friend.  Goku would win.  Goku always won.  There wasn't anything to worry about.  

So all in all, Bulma was in a good mood when Chi-chi stopped by one afternoon to borrow her mother's good vacuum.  It seemed Chi-chi wanted to do some heavy-duty cleaning and her mother's vacuum was far superior to Chi-chi's older model.  So good was Bulma's mood that she even invited Chi-chi to stay for some tea and conversation.  The topic, as usual, was Gohan's studies.

"So do think we should have Gohan take the advanced math placement test?" Chi-chi asked.  

Bulma was at the counter getting the cups and spoons together for the tea. 

"Oh, definitely," she answered.  "The earlier he gets exposed to higher math the better."

She turned and one of the spoons she was holding slipped to the floor.  Bulma bent over and grabbed the spoon, but when she stood back up an attack of lightheadedness seized her and she grabbed the counter for support. 

"Are you all right?"  Chi-chi asked.

"I feel fine most of the time. It's just when I stand back up too quickly I feel like I'm going to faint. And in the afternoons, I'm dead tired.  It's everything I can do not to go crawl into bed at four o'clock.  I feel great in the morning, but I'm just so sleepy in the afternoon.  I suppose I should drag myself into the doctor.  I've probably got low iron or something."  

"Maybe," Chi-chi said thoughtfully.  "Are your breasts tender?"

"What?"  Bulma asked, alarmed.  "You don't think I have cancer, do you?"  

"No, no, nothing like that.  It's just. . . Bulma, please forgive me for this personal question, but. . .could you be pregnant?"  

"Chi-chi, please!" Bulma laughed.  "I said I was tired, not puking up my guts every morning."

"I never had morning sickness," Chi-chi said.  "But I got lightheaded just like you when I stood up suddenly and I took a nap every afternoon for the first three months."

Chi-chi's word sunk in slowly and Bulma suddenly felt like a deer caught in someone's headlights—she couldn't move. 

"No," she breathed.  Then more forcefully, "No!"  She was NOT pregnant.  She wasn't.

"When was your last cycle?"  Chi-chi asked.

"No!  I am not pregnant!  There are lots of reasons for your period to be late!  I've been under a lot of stress and obviously there's something wrong with me but I'M NOT PREGNANT!" 

"Bulma, calm down! I'm sorry I upset you."

But it was too late.  Chi-chi could see the signs of panic in Bulma's eyes and knew regardless of what Bulma said, she could indeed be pregnant.  Chi-chi tried a different approach.

"Bulma, it's not the end of the world if you're pregnant.  Maybe this is the thing you and Yamcha need to get off the fence you've been on for the last ten years."

"It's not Yamcha's," Bulma said quickly.  Her eyes were filling with tears.  In a few moments she'd probably be wailing.  

"Then who. . .?"  Chi-chi asked.

Bulma couldn't say the name, but her eyes darted out the window to where the gravity machine used to stand.

Chi-chi covered her mouth, appalled.  "Oh you poor thing!  Vegeta raped you?"  

"No!" Bulma blurted out.  Then more softly, "No.  He didn't. . . I was willing."  _Every goddamn time. _  She sat down helplessly.  The tears were falling now, streaming silently down her cheeks.  

"You mean you. . ."  Chi-chi was about to lay into Bulma about how incredibly stupid she was to sleep with that murdering monster, but one look at Bulma's pale, drawn features stopped her.  _That won't help now_, she thought. 

"Look, no need to panic yet.  We don't even know if you are pregnant.  Like you said, there are lots of reasons you could be feeling this way.  How about I run to the store and get a test, hmm?  Let's find out for sure and then you can decide what to do."

Chi-chi grabbed her purse and ran to the store to get the test.  When she came back she saw that Bulma was still sitting in the same chair, but she had buried her face in her hands.  Chi-chi helped her to the restroom and gave brief instructions on how to use the test.  Bulma wordlessly took the test in and shut the door.

Chi-chi didn't hear any noise from the bathroom for a long time.  Then finally she heard the test being opened and used.  Another eon passed.  Chi-chi was about to knock on the door when Bulma opened the door and held the stick out to Chi-chi, displaying the positive result.

"Oh god, Bulma!  What are you going to do?" Chi-chi asked.

Bulma's face twisted into a mask of misery.

"Looks like I'm going to have a baby," she said and then she collapsed crying into Chi-chi's arms. 

*************************************************************

Bulma waited until her physician confirmed that she was indeed pregnant before she told her parents, who took the news with their usual aplomb.

"A baby!  Bulma, how wonderful!" Bulma's mother hugged her.  "It's a pity Vegeta's not here to share in the good news!"

It was on the tip of Bulma's tongue to ask her mother just how she knew Vegeta was the father of her child, since supposedly no one even knew they'd been sleeping together.  _Well, that hardly matters at this point.  Now everyone's going to know, _she thought.  _I don't think I can keep a half-alien baby a secret, especially if he's born with a tail like Gohan. _

Bulma's mother rattled on with plans for the baby, the nursery and maternity clothes.  

"You know, we should get that young man who did Patricia's niece's nursery to do your baby's!  He did such a lovely job.  It had little zebras all over the place and was just adorable!  I guess you'll want to use that bedroom next to yours for the nursery.  I'll get to work tomorrow on getting it cleared out. . ."

"Mom, that's the other thing I want to tell you.  I . . .I'm moving out."

"Moving out?  Bulma, surely you're not serious!  Now is when you'll need me the most."

"I know, Mom, and it would be so easy for me to stay here and let you handle everything; but I think it's time I grew up, Mom.  I think I need to do this for myself."  

"What did you have in mind?" her father asked.

"I thought I'd just put a house out by our country house.  Nothing too big since I don't want too much to take care of, just room for me and the baby."

"But what about when Vegeta comes back?"

"Mom, we don't know for sure that he IS coming back."  _And if he does,_ she added silently, _it would probably be to kill us all._  "I'll worry about that if it happens."  

So Bulma put a Deluxe Capsule House SE on the property in the country.  It was a cute two-bedroom and at first, she had fun fixing it up since that involved lots of shopping.  As her pregnancy progressed, however, Bulma began to feel less and less excited and more apprehensive about her future.  She was extremely fortunate that when she started to show a celebrity couple's breakup was making the headlines, so the unwed pregnancy of the heir to Capsule Corp. was all but ignored.  Even if the rest of the world wasn't paying attention though, Bulma knew that eventually one of her friends would call or stop by and then her pregnancy—and the unlikely father—would get all the attention it deserved. 

She was seven months pregnant and visiting her mother when Yamcha finally took a break from his desert training and stopped over at the family's quarters at Capsule Corp.  Even though she'd been mentally preparing herself for this moment for months, Bulma wanted to run and hide before her mother could show Yamcha into the room.  _Kami, this just isn't fair!, _she thought for the millionth time since she found out she was pregnant.

"Hey babe—" Yamcha started.  "—y. . . "

His smile faded as looked at Bulma's belly.  Bulma watched his face as he mentally counted months and came to the conclusion that the baby was not his.  He would not ask the question that Krillin might have asked because he knew Bulma better than anyone.  He knew without asking that Bulma had done what he'd always teased her about, but knowing that didn't make it any easier to take.  

"No fucking way," he said.  

Bulma's faced burned red and he knew he was right.  Well, he'd known all along, but her embarrassment confirmed his suspicion.  He was about to speak when Bulma's mother entered the room.  

"Here's your iced tea, Yamcha!  Oh, I see you've seen Bulma's big surprise!  Isn't it exciting?" Mrs. Briefs asked.

"That's one word for it," Yamcha said.  "'Unexpected' also comes to mind."  

"Well, the best things in life are usually surprises, I always say!"

"Mom. . ."  Bulma tried to interrupt her mother.

"Vegeta is just going to be beside himself when he gets back, you know, "Mrs. Briefs continued.  

"Mom!"  Bulma finally got her mother's attention.  

"Yes, Bulma?"  

"I'm suddenly famished and I'm sure Yamcha's starving too.  Could you go make us a couple of plates of those fabulous finger sandwiches you do?"  Bulma smiled prettily.

"The chicken salad ones with the cucumber?  Oh, but I'm out of cucumber. . ."

"Then go get one at the store." Bulma rubbed her belly for effect.  "Please?"  

"Of course, dear!  We can't have that baby starving, can we?"

Bulma turned to Yamcha after her mother left the room.  "Sorry.  Mom's a little more over the top than usual these days."  

"Vegeta's not here?"  

"No, he left Earth months ago."

"And he doesn't know about the baby?"  

"No."  

"Really?  I'm surprised you haven't contacted him with the good news," Yamcha said.  "I'm sure the arrogant bastard will be thrilled to know he's sired an heir."  He knew he sounded childish, but he didn't care.  The reality that Vegeta had had _her_—his Bulma—was beginning to gnaw at him.  He felt jealous and cheated somehow.  He refocused on what Bulma was saying.

". . . so I've just concluded he's either broken or disabled the communication system or that somehow he's gotten out of range of his transmitter.  Although how he could do that so quickly is beyond me—"

"Why, Bulma?"  Yamcha asked.  "Why did you have to give yourself to that prick-bastard?  Does being treated like shit appeal to you that much?  If I had known that I wouldn't have caved into you for ten years, that's for damn sure!  Do you know how it makes me feel to know that you went into his arms after mine?  Nobody likes to think about their ex-girlfriend with someone else, but you'd like to think it won't be the man who killed you!"  

"Vegeta didn't kill you, you know that!  It was Nappa's—"  

"Well, pardon me if I don't see the fucking difference.  I guess a year of DEATH kind of clouds the issue!"  

This was exactly what Bulma had expected, that her friends would feel betrayed, that they would feel as if their deaths and suffering meant nothing to her.  Hearing it from Yamcha's lips was more than she could take though, and she began to cry.

"I'm so sorry, Yamcha!  I was stupid and blind and foolish.  I can't blame you if you hate me, Kami knows I hate myself, I hate my life, I hate this baby.  It's everything I deserve for being so stupid, but it's not fair!  It's not fair!"  

Yamcha was stunned.  He'd seen Bulma in virtually every emotional state he thought possible, but he'd never seen her like this—helpless and hysterical.  He did the only thing he knew to do; he put his arms around her.

"Shhhh, Bulma.  Don't cry, I don't hate you.  It'll be OK, I promise." He felt her calming as he stroked her hair.  "Your mom seems to think Vegeta's going to be thrilled with the baby."

Bulma pushed herself out of Yamcha's arms and wiped her eyes.  "Since when do you take my mother as an authority on anything?"  She sat down and Yamcha sat down next to her.  "He won't care.  He doesn't care about me and he's certainly not going to care about. . .how would he put it?  'Some mewling half-breed infant'   Yeah, I think that would probably sum up his attitude."  

"That sounds like something he would say," Yamcha said. "But how on Earth did you ever wind up in bed with him anyway?  I know I accused you of having a thing for him, but that was mostly teasing.  You can't tell me he suddenly turned into a nice guy, because I won't believe it."

"It's a long story, but one night we wound up in a kiss and after that all I could think about was him. . .and he seemed to feel the same way.  We, uh, spent about three weeks having this affair at night and then one day he told me he was bored with it and that the only reason he treated me like he liked me was so I go to bed with him.  Oh, and he told I'd make a great whore."

"That bastard!  I bet you gave him hell for that!"

"Well, uh, I was a little too shocked by the entire conversation and he left for space before I could compose myself to let him have it.  He took the newest capsule model too.  Asshole."  She sighed and rubbed her belly.  "So here I am.  The biggest secret I ever had has become public in a way I can't avoid.  I can't imagine what Krillen and Tien will think.  I've avoided poor Gohan so much he probably thinks I don't like him anymore, but I just can't tell that little boy the man who tried to crush the life out of his dad is the father of this baby."

"You don't really hate the baby, do you?" Yamcha asked.

Another sigh.  "No.  I just. . . .It's not supposed to be like this, you know?  You're not supposed to dread announcing the birth of your baby.  You're not supposed to be alone."

"You're not alone, Bulma.  I'm still your friend and I'm here if you need me." 

"Thanks, Yamcha.  You have no idea how much that means to me."  She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder.   "I don't deserve you."

"Yes, you do, babe."  He kissed her forehead.  "Yes, you do."

***************************************************************************

Thanks again to anyone who's reviewed and emailed me feedback.  It's so motivating!  The next chappy will probably be Vegeta in space—I haven't quite decided how he's going to handle traveling with Kiara and Pegur, but I'll make up my mind soon, I promise.  

I've decided to start an email update list since we're rapidly approaching parts in the story that are in the anime, so I need to re-watch some episodes so I don't screw anything up.  This means it may be longer between chapters, so if you would like me to email you when I've updated, please email me and let me know.  

As always, extra-special thanks and hugs to beta-extraordinaire, Ember!  *applause* 


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer:  I don't own Dragonballz nor am I making any money off this story.  I'm just having a wee bit of fun. 

AFTER THE KISS

*Chapter 7* 

Vegeta stared out at the inky blackness.  The sun of this solar system would rise soon, but it wouldn't be any lighter.  The planet he had chosen was some one hundred eighty million miles from its star, the "sun" would be just a brighter dot in the sky.  Out on the fringes of this system, his life was not ruled by the concepts of "day" or "night".  It was not ornamented with the beauty of "sunrise" or "sunset".   His body was surrounded by the one thing that filled his soul— emptiness.  When he looked at the sky, he saw a reflection of his entire life—a great, never-ending darkness.  There might be sparks of light here and there, but they could never fill the void.  The darkness was too vast, too complete and soon even the lights would burn out and fade away.

He had left Kiara and Pegur three months after he joined them.  During those three months, he trained in his capsule in the hanger of the cruiser, leaving only to take his meals in the giant food hall with its food synthesizers.  This had the upside of saving his own stores for later, but he'd forgotten how bland synthesized food tasted.  It took a lot of self-control not to open the food he'd brought from Earth (he knew Mrs. Briefs had gotten him some of those cookies with the white coating outside).  Another downside was company.  Kiara seemed to think they were somehow "comrades" based on their common backgrounds (all three had been hostages of Frieza) and appeared to have forgotten that once he would have killed her without thought had Frieza ordered it.    Despite his best efforts to avoid the only other occupants on the ship, she still had found him in the food hall one day and decided to keep him company. She had been "dying to know" how he wound up with Bulma Briefs.    

"She's the richest woman on the Earth, you know!  And she's so beautiful! Didn't you think she was beautiful?"  

Vegeta shoveled more food into his mouth and gave what he hoped was a non-committal grunt.  Kiara had obviously spent too much time on Earth and that planet's fascination with celebrity had rubbed off on her.  

"Well, I think she's beautiful!"  Kiara said.  "So aren't you going to tell me how you wound up as her date?"

"No."

"I don't think Vegeta is the type to kiss and tell, Kiara," Pegur said, setting his food down and sliding into a chair.  "As a matter of fact, there were quite a few bets placed that he wasn't the type to "kiss" at all."

Vegeta stopped eating and looked up at Pegur.  If Kiara had forgotten his past, Pegur hadn't.  Pegur was the type who stayed alive by finding out all he could and using what he knew. 

"I hope you lost money," Vegeta said, so irritated that he didn't even realize he was confirming Pegur's suspicions.  

Pegur laughed. "Oh no, Vegeta.  I've always been certain there were uncharted depths to you.  Unfortunately, the Cold clan owned all the gaming houses where those bets were placed, so I'll never collect.  I'll have to be satisfied with being right.  Kiara, you mother has sent another message."

"Wonderful!  Be nice, Pegur!  You know if any of those nasty Glambien pirates show up Vegeta is our only defense!"

"That and two hundred Veideri missiles," Pegur said.

"Oh yeah!  I forgot about those.  It won't hurt you to be nice anyway,"  Kiara kissed his cheek and headed out the door.  

"Sweet girl," Pegur said, watching her leave, "but not exactly going to set the galaxy on fire with her brains."  His gaze slid to Vegeta.  "Not like the Briefs woman and her father.  I have to admit I was completely impressed with their brainpower.  Somebody should take them somewhere where their abilities could be properly appreciated."

Vegeta looked up.  "What are you suggesting?"

"Only that brainpower used to be a very lucrative commodity on the galactic market.  I imagine it still is.  Frieza may be gone, but already the Quesi and the Lokan have built quite respectable "mini-empires" if you will.  The Quesi in particular—"

"I think," Vegeta said softly, "that you should forget that idea.  Efforts in that direction will result in failure and death."

"Really?  Interesting.  I hadn't though Earth's defenses so strong, but perhaps you're right.  Opportunities abound in the collapse of an empire.  I'm sure something else will come along."

He appeared to drop the conversation and began to eat his meal.  Vegeta was almost finished eating when Pegur spoke again. 

"So, Vegeta, what are you doing all alone in that capsule all the time?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm training."

"Training for what?  Frieza's dead.  His father's dead.  The Ginyu Force is dead.  Cooler is still out there, but he's got a huge rebellion going on right now in his quadrant.  So what or should I say "who" are you training for?"

"Again, it's none of your business."  

"So you _are_ training for someone?   Someone on Earth?  A rival for Bulma Briefs attentions, perhaps?  I remember reading somewhere she had a penchant for fighters.  Is that how you wound up as her date at the symphony?  Did she take a shine to your fighting style?"  

"I wasn't her date," Vegeta said quickly—too quickly.

"Really?  So why did she come storming backstage to break up your little meeting with Kiara?  She looked like a woman checking up on her date to me."  

Vegeta said nothing.  He'd already said too much.  

"Of course, you never were the social type, were you?" Pegur said thoughtfully.  "Which leaves the question of why were you with the beauteous Ms. Briefs at all?  That's a mighty fine capsule ship you have in the hanger.  Nothing compared to this cruiser, of course, but top of the line Earth technology.  Certainly not cheap."  Pegur leaned forward.  "So were you keeping Bulma Briefs's bed warm in exchange for a way off Earth?"

Vegeta leapt across the table and grabbed Pegur by the throat.

"It looks like you've got a death wish that I can grant, Pegur."  

Pegur didn't panic.  Although Vegeta could easily crush his neck, the grip around his throat was only to intimidate, not kill.  Pegur smiled, albeit with some effort.

"I'm sorry if I insulted you, Prince Vegeta.  Curiosity has ever been my bane.  My mouth ran away with me."

  
He felt Vegeta's fingers loosen slowly until he was released.  Vegeta took a deep breath and brought himself back under control.  

"I think that you should forget Bulma Briefs exists," Vegeta said, then he turned and left the room.  

Pegur stared at the departing prince.  "The question, Prince Vegeta, is can _you_?"

He left Kiara and Pegur as soon as he could find a suitable planet—one that had a breathable atmosphere and was devoid of life.  He'd been here seven months, training constantly in gravity that threatened to break his bones, stopping only when his body could take no more.  When that happened he left the capsule, stared at the universe around him and wondered at the journey his life had become.  

For a man who had had many paths firmly placed before him during his life, he never could walk one for long.  His path to the throne was blown away before he ever came close to the end.  The next path he chose for himself—Frieza's destruction.  That path led to death.  The path given to him by the Sages of Vegeta—the Foreseen One, the Legendary—had already been trod by one unworthy.  But his new path, the destruction of the Usurper, this one he would walk to the bitter end.  _If only he could make the transformation. . . !_

He looked up at the sky in the direction of Earth.  He couldn't see it of course; he was twenty-two light years away.  It would take four months to return at his capsule's top speed—and even then he might miss the androids arrival. . . .

He didn't miss her, not really.  He thought about her though.  He pulled out memories the way Mrs. Briefs would pull out photo albums, flipping through them emotionlessly, images of the past.  He finally discovered what it was about her that drew him to her so completely. It was her smile.  When he came to her, she would smile in the most wonderful way.  Her whole face would light up and he knew she was glad to see him.   Not glad because she might be able to use him some way, not glad in the sick, anticipatory sense Frieza used to be when he summoned Vegeta; but glad because she liked the way he made her feel, glad he was there with her.  Vegeta had never experienced it before—making someone happy.  It had felt. . .good.  

He wondered if she'd gotten back together with the weakling or maybe moved on to someone else.  He hoped so.  The more firmly out of reach she was, the more he could concentrate on his goal.  

A lightening bolt shot across the sky, then another.  Soon the entire sky became filled with electricity, shooting this way and that.  An impressive show, one he found fitting for a man waiting for destiny.  

When the meteorites began to fall, he turned it into a game, seeing how close he could let them get before he blasted them to bits.  As they became larger though, the game's stakes quickly went higher.  Although his body was a small target and unlikely to be hit, his ship provided a much larger target.  A direct hit by one of the larger meteorites could damage his ship irreparably, leaving him stranded.  Suddenly, what had started out as game became life and death as he struggled to blast the meteorites before they could hit.  _There were so many of them! _ He was barely keeping pace as it was and the storm showed no signs of abating.  Then suddenly, just when he was certain he couldn't take anymore, with his strength failing and his resolve weakening, the meteorites abruptly stopped.

Vegeta searched the sky only to see the source of the meteorites, a giant asteroid, hurtling toward him.  It was approximately five hundred meters across, effectively dwarfing his ship.  He figured he had maybe ten seconds. He could fly out of the way of course, but without his ship, what was the point?

_What was the point?_  And suddenly he knew _there was no point._  All he wanted, all he was working for, there was no point to any of it and suddenly he didn't care anymore.  Nothing mattered—not Planet Vegeta, not Frieza nor Kakarrot and not becoming a Super Saiyan.  There was no fucking point and_ he didn't care_.   So he screamed at the heavens and he gave it all up. . . _and got it all back. _ 

He wondered if his father could hear his laughter in HFIL, he thought as he smashed the asteroid to bits with his fist.  He hoped so.  

*****************************************************************************

It was purely coincidence that as Vegeta finally achieved his dream, Bulma went into labor.  The last two months of her pregnancy had been particularly unpleasant—her feet swelled dangerously, forcing her to spend much of her day with her feet elevated and heartburn made eating a prelude to torture—so although she'd been dreading the birth of the baby, by the time the moment actually arrived she welcomed it as an end to her bizarre torture.

Her mother, for once, was a comfort rather than an irritant.  She held Bulma's hand, softly encouraging her, insisting that it was all worth it—she would understand when the baby came.  Bulma secretly doubted that anything was worth all this discomfort and was certain she'd never looked worse in her life, but kept her opinion to herself.

Finally, (after another humiliating check by a nurse with fingers shorter than Gohan) they told her she was ready and called the doctor back in.  The rest passed in a bit of a blur—she remembered pushing and feeling like nothing was happening even though everyone assured her she was doing "well".  Then suddenly everything was happening and she couldn't keep track because too much was going on and she was so tired and just wanted to sleep, but the nurse wouldn't let her and kept telling her this was it, just _one more push!_  So she pushed again and this one felt different, this one felt _good_, then she heard a baby cry.  

"It's a boy!" someone cried and finally they let Bulma lie back to rest.  She was groggy when they handed her her baby and as she looked into that tiny face, she wondered why in the world she had been so scared of this little guy.  How could anything so perfect be a _problem_, for goodness sake?

"Hey," she said softly to her son. "I'm your momma."  She looked at his face and saw his blue eyes watching her--_he's so tiny!_  She gently stroked his cheek and fell in love.  

**************************************************************************

Darn, THAT took forever,ne?  I had so many false starts on this puppy it was becoming a joke, but finally the story seem to find a voice.  The problem was that while I've had the story in my head for two years, this part of the story has always been "Vegeta heads for space and becomes a S. Saiyan."  I suppose I could have used that for a chapter, but it's to short to even qualify for a paragraph, you know!  *Whew* 

If you've made it this far in the notes without snoozing, let me thank all of you who were kind enough to leave reviews or email me feedback.  That truly is the only payment or reward we fanfic authors get (no, there no secret awards show passing out little gold statues, honest!)  So please, take a couple of seconds to let an author know you've read their story.  We're not fishing for compliments here (although they are appreciated) but leaving a review is the only way we know your reading our stories.  This goes for you lurkers, too!  Come on, jump in and let us know you're out there. We'd be ever so grateful!

As always, a mega-huge THANKS to Ember for beta-ing.  (And if you haven't checked out Feeding Genius by Ember, shame on you!  Go now. This is the end of the notes, so you won't be missing anything.  Don't forget to review!)


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer:  I don't own Dragonballz nor am I making any money off this story.  I'm just having a wee bit of fun. 

AFTER THE KISS

*Chapter 8* 

Vegeta landed the space capsule outside the city, then encapsulated it and flew to Capsule Corporation.  He had a pretty good idea of what kind of reception he would receive, but he knew he should at least try and return the capsule.  _After all, it isn't technically stealing if you return it, right?  That's just borrowing without permission.  _

Everything looked the same, which he found oddly comforting.  There'd been no signs of mass destruction as he orbited the planet and the lack of urgent activity seemed to confirm his calculation that the androids had not yet made an appearance.  The Capsule Corporation compound looked different somehow and it took him several seconds to realize what had changed.  The gravity room was gone.

_Of course, it would be wouldn't it?_  No reason to leave it out with him gone. He wondered where it had gone and an image of Bulma smashing it to bits with a very large hammer went through his brain.  He grinned at the thought, ridiculous as it was.    The gravity room had been built of a titanium alloy and couldn't have been smashed by a weak Earth female with a hammer even if she spent the rest of her life trying.  

He landed near the back door, hoping to pass unnoticed into the kitchen where he might get something to eat before facing anyone.  He had eaten the last of his food fifty-two hours ago and he was ravenous.  He pawed through the refrigerator and had just found some chicken that looked promising when Mrs. Briefs entered the room.

"Vegeta!  How wonderful!  Teddy said you'd be back soon.  He's been monitoring your approach with the satellite system."  She actually walked over and embraced him in a "hug", an Earth greeting he'd previously managed to avoid, but the open refrigerator doors blocked his escape.

"So what did you think?" Mrs. Briefs asked when she finally released him.

"What did I think about what?" 

"Well, _you know_. . ." she hinted with an infuriatingly knowing smile.

"No, I don't," he said, beginning to get irritated.  He hadn't eaten in over two days and this idiot wanted to play guessing games?  He grabbed the chicken, dodged around Mrs. Briefs and headed for the table.

Mrs. Briefs snatched away the chicken, deftly avoiding Vegeta's grab to get it back. "Let me warm that up for you, Vegeta.  You don't want to eat it cold."  She put the plate of chicken in a cooking machine, punched some buttons and then turned to him with renewed vigor.   

"I'm talking about Bulma's surprise, silly!  What did you think?" 

"I haven't seen Bulma," he said.  "I wanted something to eat."  

"You haven't seen Bulma?  Oh!  Well, you wouldn't know yet and I can't say anything."  She put a fist to her lips and made an odd twisting motion.  It was a gesture that was lost on Vegeta but every other being on the planet would recognize it as having to "lock" your mouth to keep a secret.  The machine behind her beeped and she retrieved the food and then bypassed giving it to Vegeta to set it on the table.  "Here you go!  All warmed up and ready to eat.  Now, as soon as you finish you go see Bulma, she's in her office in the business wing.   Is this your bag?  Silly me, of course it is!  I'll just go put it in your old room for now.  But I won't be surprised if you move it after you've seen Bulma!"  

Her voice carried off down the hall, not that Vegeta had been paying much attention after the food had been given back to him.  It _did_ taste better warm, he had to admit, although it would have been superior to anything he'd eaten in the last year had it still been cold.  

After he finished eating, he looked around for his bag of capsules before he remembered Mrs. Briefs said something about moving it to his room.  _Hmmph. It won't be my room for long, _he thought.  _It may still be your house, Mrs. Briefs, but your daughter will burn the place down before she shares a roof with me again.  _

_Which means I probably should shower now before she throws me out_, he thought and headed upstairs.  As the warm water coursed over his body, he wondered about the "surprise" Mrs. Briefs had talked about.  She had acted like it was going to be something pleasant, which he knew couldn't be true.  It was more likely that it was some machine developed with the exclusive goal of killing him.  His lips twisted at the thought, amused, but unconcerned.  Better races than humans had tried to kill him and failed.  As much as he hated to disappoint Bulma by not dying if she attacked him, he would not miss his appointment with destiny.  _First the androids and then Kakarott._   He popped the capsule that contained Earth clothing and dressed.  

_No, _he corrected_, first Bulma.  _

********************************************************************************************

"He's back."

Bulma immediately recognized Chi-chi's voice on the other end.

"Vegeta?  How do you know?"

"Goku said he felt his ki on Earth this morning."

"This morning!  And you just now called me?"

"Sorry, but Goku actually hung around all morning and helped me in the house.  Typical.  He won't leave when I actually need him too.  Look, I've kept your secret this long, which hasn't' been easy.  I wasn't going to blow it now by calling and warning you in with him here.  He has hearing that makes a dog look deaf."  

"Sorry, thanks for the heads up. I suppose I need to have a conversation with my father about keeping this from me."

"Where's Trunks?" Chi-chi asked.

"He's here with me being a good little boy," Bulma said, smiling down at the baby in the baby seat on the floor by her chair.  Being the boss definitely had its advantages.  Some days she didn't want to leave her baby so she just brought him with her.  She reached down to tickle Trunks's feet.  He giggled with the absolute glee only babies and small children can muster. 

"Well, if he hasn't shown up yet maybe he won't," Chi-chi said.

"If he has any sense of decency he won't; but I'll don't think he has any sense---"

Bulma suddenly heard elevated voices outside her office.

_"Sir, you can't just barge in there!"_ Bulma heard her receptionist say.   

_"I don't think you can stop me, but I'm willing to let you try,"_ a familiar voice said.

_"I'll call security if you don't leave now."_

"Listen Chi-chi, I've got to go.  Bye."

"What---?!" Click.  

Bulma opened the door to see her receptionist standing gamely in front of her door, arms held wide to stave off any possible penetration on the part of the intruder.  Bulma made a mental note to give the receptionist hazard pay, even though she'd been hired months after Vegeta had left and couldn't possibly know she was putting her life in jeopardy.  

The intruder stood in the center of the reception area, arms crossed over his chest, an all too familiar smirk gracing his features. It was like he'd never left.  Bulma felt a rush of _something_ course over her body as she looked at him.  She refused to define exactly what she felt at that moment, but there was no doubt his presence affected her far more strongly than she liked.

"It's OK, Jean," she said.  "I'll see him."

Jean turned with some surprise; Bulma never saw visitors without an appointment and certainly not visitors who looked like. . . that!  This man somehow projected the relaxed menace of a tiger.  She reluctantly dropped her arms and took her seat, but kept her fingers near the phone to call security—_just in case! _

Bulma turned and walked into her office, waited for Vegeta to follow her inside, then shut the door.   She walked around to her desk and gave a quick glance at Trunks as she sat down.  He was dozing, thank goodness.  She finally looked Vegeta in the eyes.

They were black, as always.  _Were you expecting something else, Bulma?_ her brain asked.  _ Or were you _hoping_ for something else?_  

_Shut up_, Bulma thought. _ I don't need that shit right now._

"Well, what do you want?  You must want something to come over here and terrorize my receptionist," she said.

She looked beautiful, as always.  Her hair was cut shorter, but it suited her.  Her figure appeared fuller somehow, but it didn't seem to be extra body weight; it was something else he couldn't quite describe.  _There is one other change,_ he thought.  _She didn't smile._

He wordlessly tossed the capsule containing her ship to her.  Bulma snatched it out of the air and read the contents label.  

"Does it still work?" she asked.

"It did when I landed, although the hydraulic system could use an overhaul.  The thruster vents were slow to open."

They stared at each other, neither willing to speak, yet both unwilling to end the moment.  All of the horrible things Bulma swore she'd say to him when he showed back up didn't even cross her mind.  _He looks good_, she thought and she realized that she had unconsciously been worried about him the past year and a half.  Worried that he might be hurt or even killed.  Worried that he might not come back.   _He smells good, too_, she thought, breathing in his freshly showered scent.  _No cologne could smell as good as freshly showered Vegeta. _ 

When the urge to do or say something stupid became overwhelming, Bulma finally broke eye contact and reached down to pull open the bottom drawer in which she'd placed the gravity room capsule, bumping Trunks baby seat in the process.  Trunks's eyes opened and he began to squirm, finally tired of the baby seat.  Bulma quickly snatched the capsule from the drawer and tossed it to Vegeta.

"There!  I suppose you want that."

Vegeta read the capsule contents, then tossed the capsule back to her.  Bulma, distracted by Trunks who looked like he was about to verbally demand to be taken out of the baby seat, almost didn't catch it this time.

"The gravity room is no longer necessary," Vegeta said.  "I have become a Super Saiyan."  

Bulma stopped trying to rock the baby seat with her foot and looked at Vegeta.  Her first reaction was joy for Vegeta (_He'd worked so hard!_) and for a nano-second she knew it showed on her face.  She killed it quickly and tried to look indifferent.

"Congratulations," she said.  "You must be very proud of yourself; but then, you always are."

Whatever Vegeta might have said was lost because at that moment Trunks wailed.  

It was difficult to say who was more appalled at the sound---Bulma, who for some extremely short-sighted reason had decided this was not the moment to share Trunks with Vegeta; or Vegeta, whose sensitive Saiyan ears found the pitch to be particularly annoying.

"What the hell is that noise?" he demanded.

Bulma swallowed.  

"A baby," she said helplessly.

"Well, shut it up!"

Vegeta watched as Bulma reached down beside her desk and picked up a child. She cradled it against her shoulder, rubbing its back as she made some soothing sounds in the baby's ear.  Mercifully, it quieted immediately. He considered the child. If Bulma considered her coloring "unusual", this child's was bizarre.  _Purple hair._  Even more bizarre was Bulma's apparent familiarity with it.   There was a confidence to her movement that belied a comfort with this child that did not fit with the discussions Bulma and her mother had carried on during dinner occasionally.  From what he could recall, Bulma's opinion on the matter of babies was "smelly and noisy."  

"Whose child?" Vegeta asked.  

"Mine."

Vegeta blinked, considering the implications.  _So she has moved on.  The weakling or someone else?_  Jealousy surged as it sunk in that she had given herself to another.  It didn't matter if that was what he said he wanted;  for her to no longer be an opportunity for distraction.  He was jealous and he hated himself for it.

"Who's the lucky father?" he asked because he could not stop himself.  

He saw Bulma's jaw tighten into a grim line, then relax.

"No one you know," she said, meeting his eyes.  There was something in them, he thought.  A challenge? A dare?  He couldn't decipher it and she looked away, back to the child.  Her lips moved in a faint whisper against the child's cheek, but his Saiyan hearing caught it.

"_I'm sorry, Trunks_."  

Something about that moment made Vegeta particularly uncomfortable and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.  He should leave. . . .

"There is another thing," he said, remembering.  "Your mother has invited me to stay at Capsule Corporation again.  Given our. . .history, I wanted to know your feelings on the matter."

"Since I don't stay there anymore, I couldn't feel less."

"Where do you stay?"

"Somewhere else."

Vegeta clenched his jaw to prevent himself from demanding "Where?"  This was pointless.  Bulma Briefs, where she stayed, the father of her child and the child itself were no longer part of the equation.  He had returned the ship.  He had confirmed she had no objections to him staying at Capsule Corporation.  Anything else should be beneath his notice.  _But I will always notice her,_ he thought truthfully.  _In an infinite universe with billions of beings, she will draw my eye.  _He looked at her. . .

_And my heart, _he admitted_. I was foolish to think otherwise._

She was looking at the child again, softly rubbing her lips back and forth on his check.  Her lips had grazed his body in the same manner so many times.  He knew they were feather soft and her breath was warm; her hair had echoed the movement of her head, teasing shivers from him where it touched. . . . He was hard as a rock at the memory.   He turned to leave before desire made him do something he would regret.  His hand turned the knob and pulled open the door.

"There is one other thing.  Your mother seems quite certain you have a surprise for me," he said without turning.

"I have no idea what she's talking about," Bulma said.

_I thought as much._  He left her office.

After he left, Bulma took a deep, shuddering breath.

"You know, Trunks, your mother may be a bona fide genius, but sometimes she sure can be stupid."

_What was I thinking?  How long do you think you can keep this secret from him?  Five minutes?  Ten?  I've had months to prepare for this. I even practiced what I would say.  Then he shows up and *BAM* I'm a puddle of goo.  _

That was, of course, the real problem.  The "I'm Over Vegeta" celebration was a little premature.  She wasn't "over" Vegeta.  Now she wondered it she ever would be.

_How can he still affect me like that?  What is it about him that makes me throw common sense out the window?  How can I protect Trunks if I can't even protect myself?  _

Now that Vegeta was back, Bulma's certainty that Vegeta would have no interest in his child began to waiver.  He was certainly self-centered enough that you could believe no one else could interest him, but children had never been a topic of conversation between them.  For all she knew, there might be some kind of Saiyan "honor code" where children were involved.  He might think it his duty to take Trunks from her and raise him in some sick Saiyan fashion.  _Until he loses interest, that is, and until he gets bored with it.  It might be something new to entertain him, like I was, but eventually it will become a choice between himself and Trunks and we all know who wins that contest, right?  _

_I won't let that happen to my son.  Better he have no father at all than one who'll throw him back when he's finished. _ 

***************************************************************************************

Vegeta walked back to the Capsule Corporation living quarters disturbed by his encounter with Bulma.  He'd known it would be awkward seeing her again, but he been surprised at how strongly their brief affair could still affect him.  Nappa had been his loyal retainer for years—he practically raised Vegeta after the destruction of planet Vegeta (by Saiyan standards, anyway)—and yet he had felt next to nothing as he killed him for losing to Kakarott.  He still only felt mild regret and then only because the man was one of the last surviving Saiyans, not out of any emotional bond.  

As he looked into Bulma's unsmiling eyes today, however, he'd felt more than regret.  He'd felt a deep sadness in his heart, like he'd broken something beautiful for no reason.  _There was a reason_, he insisted.  _A warrior cannot have ties to claim him from battle.  I cannot sleep in her soft bed with her soft heart.  It will make me weak. _

Yet somehow all his rationalizations felt false.  Kakarott had a woman and he wasn't weak.  

_Kakarott is an idiot, _he thought.  _And soon he will be dead.  _

"So you've seen Bulma!  What do you think?"  Mrs. Briefs appeared out of nowhere and latched onto his arm.  "He's adorable, isn't he?"  

_Damn woman!  How can she sneak up on me like that?  _

"Who's adorable?"

"Baby Trunks, of course.  Isn't he just the cutest thing?"  

_The baby. _ Vegeta extricated his arm and tried to be about his way.

"Yes, he's the 'cutest thing'," he said in a tone he hoped conveyed his total disinterest in the topic.  

"Oh, you're disappointed, aren't you?"  Mrs. Briefs said.  "Because he doesn't look like his father."

Now here was a topic Vegeta suddenly found himself interested in.  _Yes, the father,_ he thought jealously.    If Mrs. Briefs was good for nothing else, she was a never-ending fount of information.  He faced her and crossed his arms over his chest, letting Mrs. Briefs's mouth run its course.

"I know at first glance he doesn't take after you, but you should see him when he gets angry.  I swear he looks just like you.  And his lungs!  That boy can wake the dead when he yells, but he could get that from Bulma too!"  She smiled and waited for Vegeta to say something, but he didn't.  He blinked slowly and cocked his head to the side, as if he was replaying some conversation in his mind.  His brows furrowed and his lips drew into a grim line.  Mrs. Briefs swallowed at the sight, but continued on.

"Or are you angry because Bulma cut off Trunks's tail?  I told her we should wait on you (he did get it from you, after all,) but she said it would be best to do it when he was newborn rather than when he was older." 

Again Vegeta said nothing.  Then finally he reached out and held Mrs. Briefs by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes.

"I'm going to ask you something," he said with a calm he did not feel.  "And you will answer "yes" or "no".  You will not go off into some story about Susan Porter's party or how your roses won't bloom.  Do you understand?"

Mrs. Briefs nodded wordlessly.

"Am I the father of Bulma's baby?"

"Vegeta, what a question---"

Vegeta held up a hand, silencing her.

"'Yes' or "no'," he insisted.

"Yes," she said, bewildered.

He removed his hands from her.  

"Thank you.  Leave me," he said.  

Mrs. Briefs, relieved the odd exchange was over, nodded and scuttled out of his way.  

_She lied to me_, he thought.  _She lied to me._

***********************************************************************

Notes:  This chapter took longer than I wanted, but I wanted to get just the right tone for their reunion.  Thank you for reading (as always) and please send me a review so I'll know if you like the story.  If you want me to email you when I update, just leave your email in a review. 

And thanks to Ember for beta-ing.  _What a gal! _


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonballz nor am I making any money off this story. I'm just having a wee bit of fun. 

AFTER THE KISS

*Chapter 9* 

Vegeta sat perched in a tree, hidden in the foliage, but with a perfect view into the small house. It had been simple to locate, once he knew what he was looking for.

A half-Saiyan, half-human ki. _His child._

His initial burst of anger at Bulma's evasion had faded, though he was still angry that she thought she could keep something like that from him. Did she think he wouldn't figure it out? If he'd been focused on anything but _her_ this afternoon he would have noticed the ki in the room immediately, but he'd seen only her. . . felt only her. 

_Did I really think having her hate me would make me not want her as much? Caring for her was involuntary, why would I think I could NOT care voluntarily? I can't have her, I know that, but. . . _

_I wish there was some other way, but there is no other way for a warrior. _

The last vestiges of daylight were leaving the sky.  He'd been watching the house all afternoon, but his current vantage point allowed him to see inside only one room. He could see a chair and an odd barred thing in the corner. He realized it was some kind of bed when Bulma came and picked the baby up out of it. She put him to her shoulder like she'd done in her office, then walked over to the chair and sat down, still cradling the baby to her shoulder.  The chair began to move back and forth and he realized this was some sort of comforting ritual.  He should have been disgusted at the sight of a Saiyan child being coddled so, but oddly he wasn't.  There was something soothing about watching Bulma be so tender.  Considering that the child was half his, he was amazed that she could care for it at all. Of course, that thought brought him back to his reason for being here.  Answers.  

Suddenly Kakarott appeared out of nowhere using his instant transmission trick. He was holding some kind of pot in his hand. Vegeta immediately dampened his ki, but Kakarott's head swung around in his direction and he knew he'd been spotted.  He didn't approach Vegeta however, or call out.  He turned his attention back to the house and knocked on the door.  In the window he saw Bulma put the baby back into the bed, and then she left the room to let Kakarott inside.

Moments passed.  Was Kakarott telling Bulma he was out here?  Would they both come out and demand that he leave immediately?  Bulma could do that by herself, of course, but without Kakarott as backup she could hardly force him to leave until he got what he came for.  

Finally, the front door opened and Kakarott came back outside—alone and empty handed.  He looked in Vegeta's direction again, then put two fingers on his forehead and vanished.

_Interesting, _Vegeta thought.  _Kakarott didn't seem alarmed at the prospect of me lurking in the trees outside Bulma's house.  Perhaps he didn't tell her I was out here.  Maybe I'm just imagining that he recognized my ki.  But no, there's no reason for him to come back outside.  He could just leave from inside the house now that Bulma knew he was here.  He came back outside so I would know he was gone._

It was now completely dark.  Vegeta wondered how much longer he could sit out here, cowardly gathering his courage, steeling his resolve.  She owed him explanations, but he wasn't going to demand them until he was certain he would be in control of the conversation.  Being near her was too. . .unsettling.  If this afternoon had taught him nothing else, it had taught him he was far from immune to her presence.  

The front door opened and Bulma marched outside.

"I know you're out here," she called.  "So you might as well show yourself---unless you flew off like a coward the minute Goku showed up."

_Ready or not, here I come_, Vegeta thought and descended from his tree. 

Bulma strode over to him.

"What the hell do you want?  How did you find out where I was?" she demanded.

_Excellent tactics, Bulma,_ Vegeta thought.  _Always better to be on the offensive.  _ _Unfortunately, you've underestimated your opponent. _

"Why did you lie to me?"

_So he knows_.   "Lie?  I didn't lie to you."  Somewhere inside her head, Bulma swore she heard her brain groan in frustration.  

_How dare she. . .!_

"Yes, you did!  'No one you know,' you said!  Well, if there's one thing we can agree on, it's that there's at least one person on this planet of whom I'm aware and that's ME!  What did you think?  I wouldn't figure it out, _stupid Saiyan_ that I am?   Did you think you could pass off that child as human?  That ki led me here like a beacon and if I hadn't been so fucking distracted at seeing you again, I would've seen it this afternoon!" 

His outburst stunned Bulma, both with its intensity and its length; then suddenly something registered.

"You were distracted at seeing me again?"

Vegeta turned his face away sharply, refusing to answer.  He took a deep breath and tried again.

"You said this could not happen.  You said you were taking a contraceptive pill."

This was true.  Maybe five days into their affair, Gohan had dropped by wanting help with some math problems.  The sight of the boy made Vegeta realize that his nocturnal activities might have other ramifications, so he had asked Bulma about the possibility of pregnancy.  Bulma had been charmed at the almost embarrassed way Vegeta had broached the subject and had been happy to lay his fears to rest.  

"I was.  I didn't lie about that."

"Then do you care to explain how this happened?  _You_ said it couldn't."

"Well, I've been working on that," she said, unconsciously switching into her scientist voice.  "The pill I was taking works by suppressing ovulation—if there's no egg to fertilize, there's no pregnancy."  She paused, uncertain how to say what happened next without looking like a lovesick fool.

"When you. . . after you left, I didn't take the pill for two days.  Without the hormone in my body, I must have ovulated.  This wouldn't be a problem with a human partner since human sperm only live seventy-two hours at most, and it had been a least that long since I'd had sex."

"But I'm not human," Vegeta said.

"Exactly," Bulma said.  "Apparently Saiyan sperm live longer and some of your boys were hanging around just waiting to get their clutches on my egg. So you see, I didn't lie to you."

"Yes, you did."

"Alright, I did.  I admit it.  I could've said something this afternoon, but I guess I decided that someone who had lied his way between my thighs for three weeks wouldn't be interested in the truth."

Vegeta ignored the attempt to change the subject.  "I wouldn't be interested in the fact that I have a _son?_"

She slapped him.

"Don't say that!  Don't you even think it!  Trunks is my son, do you hear me?  Mine! And I'll see you dead before I let you get your lying, blood-soaked hands on him!"  

Vegeta's head, forced to one side by her sudden slap, turned slowly back to face her, full of anger.

"You didn't mind my lying, blood-soaked hands on you."

"That was because you made me believe you cared!  How could you do that to me?  I gave you everything.  How could you use me and laugh behind my back?"  

"I never laughed at you, Bulma.  And stop acting like I was the only one who found pleasure in your bed."

"Yes, to my eternal shame," Bulma said.  She was losing control of her emotions and knew she was dangerously close to crying.  "I knew what you were. . . ._I knew_.  And still I believed. . . when you touched me, I was certain you cared for me. . ."  

Then she lost the battle and tears slid down her cheeks.  The sight of her tears and her desperate sense of loss enraged him.  Did she think she was the only one who suffered?  That she was the only one who lost?  He grabbed her by her upper arms and jerked her to him.  

"Of course I _cared_, you little fool!  That's why I had to end it.  That wasn't supposed to happen.  If I'd known how deeply you were going to worm your way under my skin, I would have killed you rather than kissed you that day!  I knew indulging myself with your body was wrong—it goes against everything I know is true, but I convinced myself it would be just once, but it wasn't just once.  Then I told myself I would tire of you quickly, but I didn't.  Then I realized you had somehow trapped me into giving a damn about you!"

"I trapped _you_?  What about you, huh?  What about Mr. Tender and Gentle?  What about Mr. "I shouldn't be here, but I can't stay away?"  

_Ye gods, did I say that?_ he thought and he remembered that he had.  It had so naturally rolled off his lips one night when she'd inquired about his training, he'd forgotten that he had said it. 

". . .if I trapped you, then you sure as hell trapped me!  You couldn't have made me fall in love with you any faster if you tried!"  Bulma jerked herself out of his grip.

"Don't you try to pin this on me!  You started it!  You should never have kissed me!" Vegeta said.  

"You ASKED for it, you imbecile!  Just because your little trick backfired on you doesn't mean this isn't all your fault.  Don't blame me because you got more than you bargained for!"  She turned away, struck by the absurdity of the entire conversation.  

"This is ridiculous," she said to the trees, "I can't believe I'm standing out here fighting about this."  She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and backed a few steps away.  Her fatigue and the threat of more tears had eroded what was left of her will to fight.  Maybe it was the newfound maturity motherhood had brought her or maybe she'd spent too much of the day stressed out by her anxiety over this inevitable encounter, but she didn't want to play "who's fault is it?" anymore. 

"You know what?  You're right.  This_ is_ all my fault.  Me and my atrocious taste in men.  You'd think I'd know by now not to pick a guy based on how cute he is, or how dangerous he is, or how much I think he needs me to "save" him.  All I get is left behind somehow with nothing to show for it.  At least Yamcha said he loved me.  At least he wasn't _ashamed_ to care for me.  You're a real piece of work, Vegeta.  I think I preferred it when you just fucked me for the fun of it rather than this 'I'm too strong to care for you' bullshit."  

"I cannot care for you, Bulma.  It interferes with everything I must be as a warrior and a Saiyan."

Bulma gave a sad smile.  "That's the problem then.  I only wanted you to be Vegeta."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?  _I am Vegeta_, warrior and Prince of all Saiyans."  

"Then that's all you will ever be."   This conversation was finished as far as she was concerned.  She turned to walk back into her house.

"Where the hell are you going?  This isn't finished."

"Yes, it is, Vegeta.  You ended it, remember?  You can't care for me, but I think it's more true to say you _won't _care for me.  You've gotten your answer about Trunks, but you don't want him—after all, babies require lots of care and that would interfere with everything you _have_ to be, wouldn't it?"

"You don't understand anything. . ."

"I don't? This isn't about Trunks then?  Maybe it's about you wanting somewhere soft and warm and wet?  Are you regretting your offer to pimp me in the West Quadrant?  Maybe you came over here hoping to smooth over that faux pas with your kisses and worm you way back into my bed?" She gave a half-hysterical laugh.  "The really sad thing is that if it were just me, I would actually consider it.  Somehow, there's a stupid, insane, self-destructive part of me still wants you.  But it isn't just me anymore.  I have to think of Trunks first. I can't give in to foolish impulses anymore and sleeping with you again would be the mother of everything foolish.  If that boy was telling us the truth, the androids will arrive tomorrow.  I expect you to keep your part of the bargain and help destroy them.  You don't need to worry that I'll be blabbing to the others all the sordid details of our little affair.  I would die of shame if that ever came to light.  They'll figure out who Trunks's father is soon enough and I'm hoping they'll chalk it up to a test tube or a drunken one night stand.  Anything would be better than letting them know I ever thought there were any redeeming qualities to you!"

She turned and walked back to her house.  "You can leave now," she said over her shoulder.  "Stay away from me and stay away from Trunks."  

The back-draft of ki hit her so forcefully it knocked her forward. She barely broke her fall with her hands.  She pushed up and looked back to see Vegeta. . . .

Sweet Kami!  He was. . . .he was. . .golden.  He glowed so brightly she had to squint to look at him.  His hair was burning gold and his eyes were the blue green of turquoise.  He grinned evilly at her then looked at his hand, which playfully formed a small ball of ki and he twirled it with his fingers.  

"As I said before, you don't understand anything."  He walked toward her, still playing with the ball of ki.  "How can you?  You have no idea what it's like to want something with every fiber of your being.  You've been given everything.  When you have been denied your destiny, when you have been humiliated by the one who enslaved you for the entertainment value of it, when you have been disgraced by one who should be bowing at your feet, then you will understand what I feel."  The ball of ki grew bigger.  "I've waited for this my entire life.  This power. . . you can't know what it feels like to finally have it.  This is my destiny."  He stood above her and looked down.

"I will destroy the androids.  Then I will kill Kakarrot and regain my honor; and nothing, not you, nor your brat child or anyone else on this planet can stop me.  So I think if anyone is going to stay out of anyone else's way, it had better be you; because if you come between me and my destiny, I will go right through you."

He powered down and walked away, then he stopped and faced her once more.

"You're right.  I won't care for you, but I don't want to hurt you either.  Choose your actions wisely, Bulma."

She scrambled to her feet and screamed at his departing back.  "Well, Kami knows that any choice I make from here on out will be vastly wiser than my decision to sleep with you.  I will regret that mistake till the day I die!  You know what?  I hope the androids do kill you!    I hope they blast your worthless ass to smithereens because only then will I never have to look on your ugly face again, you bastard!"

He never turned around and took off before she finished, leaving her screaming the last to trees.  She stood there in the darkness, numb from the encounter.  Finally it registered that her phone ringing.  She went back inside and answered it.

"Hey, Bulma."  Chi-chi said. "I just called to see if you like the soup."

"Ummm, I haven't had a chance to try it yet, Chi-chi."

"Well, I thought it was rather soon to call myself, but Goku became pretty insistent that I call you a few moments ago.  He was going to go back over there until I said I would call.  I don't know what got into him.  I mean, it's good soup, but hardly an emergency!   Bizarre, huh?" 

"Yeah, well, you know Goku," Bulma said.  

Chi-chi laughed.  "Don't I ever.  Well, let me know how you like it then, OK?"  

"OK.  Goodnight."

Bulma hung up the phone and went to check on Trunks.  She wanted nothing more than to pick him up and hold him, but he was sleeping soundly. She pulled his blanket up a little more and tucked it in around his feet. She kissed her fingertips and touched them to his cheek, then went into her own room and lay down.  Her mind wouldn't let her sleep however; it kept replaying her conversation with Vegeta.  Her heart broke again as she recalled him choosing his "destiny" and heritage over her.  How had a secret fling turned into this ache?  She didn't even like him, for Kami's sake, but somehow, he pulled at her soul.  Something about him just called to her.  She would never understand it—or him.  _And now it's almost over, _she thought.  What would tomorrow bring?  Would they win easily or would all the work put into the last three years not be enough?  _And if we win, then what?_  She believed Vegeta meant what he said, so even if the androids were destroyed easily, her worries were far from over.  He would go after Goku next and even though she was ninety-nine percent certain that Goku would win, the one percent chance he might lose drove her crazy.  What would happen if Vegeta won?   Would he destroy the Earth as originally planned?  Would he just leave?  And if Vegeta lost?  If he lost, he would be dead.  His pride would have it no other way.  She didn't like the thought of Goku losing, but if Goku winning meant Vegeta's death. . . . Finally, before dawn, she fell asleep.  It was not a peaceful slumber though, peppered as it was with dreams of destruction and a golden-haired demon.

***********************************************************************************

The next night, Bulma rocked Trunks to sleep.  He'd actually been asleep for about thirty minutes, but Bulma couldn't bring herself to put him down just yet.  To say that the day had gone badly would be an understatement.  And to think she had thought the worst thing about today would be the expressions on her friends' faces when they realized who Trunks's father was!  Maybe they were just too anxious about the androids arrival, but they had been rather blasé about the whole concept and had not asked her any embarrassing questions.  _You know it's gotta be a bad day when what you thought was going to be the low point turns out to be the __high point__!_

The androids had attacked as expected, but she'd been relegated to staying put with Yajirobe.  Yamcha had almost been killed and the fight had moved from the city, so she guilted Yajirobe into coming with her to the battle.  She gave a slight smile as she remembered threatening Yajirobe with Vegeta---that'd been a little fun.  Truth be told she was riding a little too high on adrenaline to think about what she was saying or what she was doing and had almost gotten herself and Trunks killed in the process.  They both would have died had it not been for that boy from the future (her son!  She still couldn't quite call him Trunks, though.  That was just too bizarre.)  She'd learned from Gohan how Goku was attacked by the heart virus and was saved by Vegeta, of all people.  Later she would learn from Trunks—the other Trunks—how Vegeta did his best to get his stubborn self killed.  If this boy was a shock to her, she could only imagine how Vegeta must seem to him.  He had grown up without his father and it was clear that he wanted this Vegeta to be that father.  _He'd better get used to disappointment,_ she thought.  Then she realized that he was probably more used to disappointment than she would ever know.  He was fighting now to make sure this world didn't turn out like his own. . . .

Bulma finally put Trunks down and went to her own bed.  _I hope tomorrow isn't any worse,_ she thought.  _Today was so awful, I can't see how it can be any worse.  There's so many unanswered questions though.  What about that other time machine?  And that strange creature. . .where did it go?  Will Goku's medicine work?  And where is Vegeta?  Auugh!  I'll go crazy if I keep this up.  Tomorrow's got to be better.  It just has to be.  Right?_

Of course, only Kami heard her thoughts, but he couldn't agree about tomorrow being better, or even the next day.  As a matter of fact, he believed the future was going to get a lot worse.  

********************************************************************************************

Notes:  First and foremost, a big THANK YOU to all who have left reviews.  I can't begin to tell you how much even a few words brightens my day.  Knowing you are enjoying the fic makes it all worthwhile.

Second, I know I played a wee bit with the story here.  Goku technically learns about Trunks the day the androids attack, I know, but that's the way this part of the story came to me.  Hopefully this small liberty doesn't ruin the fic for you.  *crosses fingers*

As always, super-duper thanks and hugs to all-star beta, EMBER!  Yaaaaay!  


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonballz nor am I making any money off this story. I'm just having a wee bit of fun.

AFTER THE KISS

Chapter 10

_The eye of the hurricane, _that was how Bulma would later think of this time. The previous week had been a storm of battles, activity, prayers and losses. _One step forward and two steps back,_ she thought, remembering how every time they felt they had a small advantage over their opponents, someone would squander it, leaving them in a worse position than before. _If only Krillen had used the remote control device,_ she thought. _If only Vegeta had destroyed Cell when he had the chance. . . or Trunks for that matter. He could have done it too, before Vegeta let him absorb Android Eighteen._ The first part of the storm passed and then came the eerie calm of waiting. Ten days that seemed both never-ending and too short at the same time. Tomorrow the storm would return with the incongruous title of "Games". Would it leave even greater destruction in its wake? She thought so. Somehow she couldn't shake this feeling of death. This time, they wouldn't get off scot-free.

She had spent time with her friends, determined to enjoy these last good days. Krillen and Yamcha were found at Master Roshi's and even the old pervert's ass-grabs and double-entendres couldn't dampen the visit. They had reminisced about the "old days." _Geez, are we really so old that we can have "old days?" _Bulma thought. They didn't discuss the upcoming battle with Cell, although Bulma found the courage to ask Krillen what had really happened with the remote control device. He had blushed profusely and mumbled something about "the right opportunity" and "an accident," then he ran off claiming the call of nature. Yamcha overheard the conversation, though, and told Bulma the truth.

"He had a crush on her-- the girl android," he said. "He just couldn't press the button and crushed the controller. Hard to believe, isn't it? She was cute, I'll give her that, but I just don't see what Krillen saw in that cold-hearted, murdering machine. Now that's desperate!" He laughed a little and caught Bulma's eyes, which were not smiling. "Oops. Sorry."

"It's alright. Nobody knows better than me the depths of my insanity," she said.

"So do you and Vegeta talk at all?"

"No, and that's probably for the best. He's in full "repair my damaged pride" mode right now, which means he walks around like he's got a mouthful of razorblades and spits them out to cut whoever is foolish enough to speak to him. He spends most of his time away from Capsule Corporation. He's. . . I can't believe he's the same man I slept with. At the time, I was so certain I was getting to know him somehow, breaking through some barriers. Now I look back and it seems like such a waste."

Yamcha was never happy about Bulma's affair with Vegeta and he didn't like it when she referred to it, but she sounded so glum he did what he could to cheer her up.

"Hey, at least you got this great consolation prize!" Yamcha said, tickling Trunks's feet. Trunks giggled and Bulma brightened up.

"You're right about that! Trunks is perfect, aren't you, baby?" She lifted his shirt and blew a raspberry on his belly, making him giggle even more.

"He grows up pretty good, too. Don't you think?" Yamcha asked.

"Yeah, that Trunks is such nice boy, but so serious! At first it was weird, me calling him Trunks and him calling me Mom, but now I know I'm going to miss him—which is ridiculous because I've got him right here! I just have to wait a while for him to grow up, that's all. And not screw him up in the meantime!"

"I don't think that'll happen. I think you're a great mom, Bulma."

"Thanks, Yamcha." She looked out at the blue ocean. "It's been a good day, hasn't it?"

"The best," he said.

Another day she flew out to Goku's house and while Chi-chi seemed a little put out at having to share Goku and Gohan with others, (Tien and Chaotzu were also there,) she still put out a feast for everyone. More memories were shared and even Chi-chi joined in with a few of her own, pulling out Gohan's baby pictures and embarrassing the boy thoroughly.

Before she left, Bulma cornered Goku alone.

"So how many punches do you think it will take before you put out Cell's lights?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't think I can beat him. He's a lot stronger than I am."

"What! You don't mean that!"

"It's true, Bulma. He's stronger."

"But. . . that means. . . you don't think we have a chance?"

"Oh, we have a chance. Don't worry, Bulma. Everything will be fine."

"How can you tell me not to worry when you just said you can't beat him!"

"Trust me, Bulma. And don't worry," he said and he gave her that _look, _the serious look he got when everything was at stake and he knew it was his job to save it all. Bulma knew better than to doubt that look and swallowed what she was about to say.

Goku's face cleared. "Hey, I think you'd better go rescue Trunks. Chaotzu is trying to make him laugh and he doesn't look like he thinks it's funny."

Bulma giggled. "Trunks doesn't like clowns, so I think I'd better rescue Chaotzu!"

"Mom, can you unlock this capsule? Grandpa needs the photon laser."

Bulma looked up from the computer to see Trunks at her desk. She had been backing up files on her hard drive to store them off-site should the worst occur tomorrow. She took the capsule from him with a smile and a roll of her eyes. 

"He insists we store things like this in combination capsules, but he never can remember the combination. I'm about to change it to his birthday, but I have serious doubts he can remember that!"

She punched in the code on the capsule, heard the _ping_ of success and handed it back to Trunks. She looked back at her computer screen, but Trunks didn't leave.

"Did you need something else?" she asked.

"No . . . er, yes," He looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Can I ask you something?"

_Here it comes,_ Bulma thought. She had been dreading this moment ever since she'd soaked in the reality of Trunks's other life, since she realized the depths of his grief. It wasn't the mourning for a world destroyed. Worlds could be rebuilt. It was the people that never came back. In his world, death was final. There were no second chances, no ways to redo the moments in life you regret.

Bulma waited, but the words did not come. _So like Vegeta,_ she thought. _He'd die before he'd admit he needed something from another person. _ Was he always like this or had being around Vegeta for a year changed him?

"Is this about Vegeta?" she asked gently and relief flooded his features. "You want to know how _you_ happened?"

"Yes," he said. "I tried to ask my mom, but she . . . she never really says anything."

"Sit down, Trunks," she said and turned away from the keyboard. If the topic had been fusion engines she would have continued to tap away at her task and remained fully in control of the conversation, but Vegeta was not a topic to multi-task through. "What did your mother tell you?"

"She said not to expect too much," he said with a weak laugh.

Bulma smiled. "That sounds like good advice where Vegeta is concerned."

"She said she knew he cared though, even though he never said anything."

Bulma's eyebrows raised and she sighed. "Vegeta is not the type to make declarations . . . but I can say that I too believed he cared."

"You don't think he does anymore?"

"Trunks, you need to understand that Vegeta — this Vegeta, I have no idea what your father was like --- has a very limited definition of himself. Anything that interferes with his determination to be the strongest warrior is unacceptable and won't be tolerated. That includes me, baby Trunks and you. We're reminders that there's more to him than what he thinks there is. Sometimes I think that scares him and that's why he acts the way he does towards us."

"Father scared? That's hard to believe."

"He's lived most of his life for one ideal; I think the idea of change terrifies him."

Trunks fell silent as he absorbed this information. She could see him trying to fit this piece of information into the puzzle that was Vegeta.

"You spent a year with him in the Room of Spirit and Time. Didn't you talk to him at all?" she asked. She was intensely curious about the time Vegeta spent with his son alone in the Room, but she hadn't wanted to broach the subject with Trunks. Son or no son, it seemed like too personal a subject.

"I tried at first, but he mostly ignored me unless he wanted to fight."

"I'm sorry," she said. "It must be a disappointment to come all this way only to be ignored."

"He only outright ignored me when I tried to talk to him about stuff like, you know, _you_. He pissed me off the way he was going to let your ship fall and I told him so."

Bulma winced. She didn't like to think about her ultimate folly—how she foolishly and pridefully put herself and Trunks in danger. She remembered teasing Yajirobe—_Vegeta won't let anything happen to us!_ Boy, had that statement jinxed the whole afternoon! Had she unconsciously decided to test the limits of his refusal to care? She didn't think so, but it didn't matter in the end why she had flown half-cocked into battle. If Vegeta had wanted to prove to her his resolve, he couldn't have chosen a better method. Bulma only wished that she could stop caring as easily.

"Well, it was a bad idea for me to go there in the first place. I don't know what I was thinking—I _wasn't_ thinking, I guess. But you were there to save us, so no harm done!" She smiled brightly. "And remember, from the instant you returned, the timeline shifted. What your mom and Vegeta experienced is probably very different from what happened here. If your dad was still alive in your time I know he couldn't ignore you."

Cautious hope filled his eyes. "You think so?"

"I know so, Trunks. What parent wouldn't be proud to have a son like you? You smart and strong and handsome! I bet the girls go crazy over you!"

He blushed. "No, not yet. But people are so scattered now. They're afraid to make themselves targets by living in the cities."

"Oh. Well, when you go back and defeat the androids in your time people won't be afraid anymore. They'll come back and the girls won't know what hit 'em!"

He didn't seem cheered by her upbeat attitude; he sat there, thoughtful and silent. Was he thinking of his world's destruction or was he still thinking of Vegeta? At last, he stood up, took the capsule and said, "Well, I guess I'd better get this to Grandpa. He's probably wondering what happened to me."

Bulma came around her desk to give him a hug, but afterward she didn't let him go and pulled back to look him in the eyes.

"Look, Trunks, I don't have any answers for you about Vegeta. All I can tell you is he's driven by demons that have been chasing him since long before you or I ever met him. He's never had a family or even any friends. He's never been able to rely on anyone but himself. Relationships like we want to have with him are alien to him. He doesn't understand them. He's scared of them . . . I really think he's scared. So . . . don't judge him too harshly, OK?"

"I don't, Mom. I think I understand him a little better now." He pulled out of her embrace to leave, but paused at the door. "You want to hear something crazy? He hasn't done anything to be proud of, but I'm still proud of him."

"Then we're both crazy, because I feel the same way," Bulma said. She suddenly felt like crying, but she didn't until Trunks was out the door and far down the hall.

Bulma spent the rest of the day pensive, recalling the visits she'd made the past week. She had been determined to make sure the possible last ten days of her life were going to be memorable and they had been. It was a shame it took something like the end of the world to make people realize what was important; not money or possessions, beauty or fame, but friends and family. Bulma had managed to spend some time with everyone, making sure they knew how important they were in her life. Well, everyone but Piccolo and Vegeta.

Piccolo she didn't worry about. She knew he was on their side now and she was glad for it, but the alien's disposition never really lent itself to the kind of friendship that Bulma could provide. She was grateful for that, since she wouldn't know how to go about being friends with someone like Piccolo anyway. She supposed Gohan's friendship was enough for him and it was probably more appreciated anyway.

Which left Vegeta. She didn't like the way they'd parted that night and everything that had happened since then hadn't improved anything. His behavior this past week had been obnoxious to say the least. Sometimes though, sometimes she thought she saw something else in his straight back and proud eyes. Sometimes she thought she saw uncertainty and perhaps regret. Of what he was uncertain, she couldn't say. He certainly had plenty to regret, but whether it was something she wished he would regret; like his treatment of her, the cold shoulder he constantly gave the son who so wanted his approval, or his vanity that allowed him to let Cell absorb the other android; she couldn't know. He was, as always, an enigma.

So she'd saved him for last. Literally. The Games began tomorrow and if she was going to say anything to him, it had to be tonight. Assuming he was in his room. She suspected her subconscious mind had made her plan it this way so she could tell herself she tried, but he wasn't there _And if he dies tomorrow? Would I still feel like the last minute effort was enough? Or will I spend the rest of my life wishing I'd at least told him the truth?_

Not wanting to traipse through the house, alerting her ever inquisitive mother that she was there, she brought a ladder to get to Vegeta's second story room. She looked up and noticed the window was open, but the room was dark. _That's not promising,_ she thought. She plopped the ladder against the house, climbed up to the open window and crawled inside.

The room was empty. She looked into the black corners and squinted her eyes to see if there was any sign he was at least in the compound, but she didn't see anything.

"Vegeta?" she called softly.

No answer. Disappointed, she turned and stuck one leg back out the window onto the ladder.

"What do you want?"

"Vegeta?" She crawled back inside and looked around the room again. "Where are you?"

In a dark corner, Vegeta levitated slowly to the floor.

"Waiting to see who was foolish enough to climb into my room," he said. "I should have known it was you."

"I see your mood has improved." she said dryly.

"Is that why you're here? To check my 'mood'?"

"No."

"What then? Did you come here to berate me for not destroying Cell when I had the chance? Don't bother. Your son has done that quite enough, thank you."

"I won't deny that it would have saved us all a lot of trouble if you had, but you're not the only one who blew it. Krillen could have destroyed the android before Cell absorbed her. Trunks could have destroyed Cell himself, but stayed his hand out of some misguided attempt to please you. I suppose Goku even shares some blame because he should have destroyed Dr. Gero when he had the chance. "

"How is Kakarott? Trunks said he hasn't trained at all."

"No, he's been spending time with his family. He. . . he says Cell is stronger than he is, but he still thinks we have a chance to win. I wish I could be as sure."

She fell silent. She half-expected Vegeta to launch into one of his "I'm going to defeat Cell" tirades, but he didn't. She wished he would move out of the dark corner so she could see more than his outline. _That's all he ever lets anyone see,_ she thought. _Just an outline, a sketch, and just those features that he deems important. That's why being his lover was so revealing. I saw so much more than he normally shows._

"So?" Vegeta prompted.

"So what?"

"What is your purpose for invading my room and by the window, no less?" Bulma wished he hadn't added that last bit. It brought up memories of other entries by window and the pleasure that followed. She hoped he didn't think she was here for _that!_

"I, uh, I just wanted to say I'm sorry." she said. "I said a lot of mean things to you that night outside my house. You really hurt me when you left for space the way you did and I was still angry. 'Hell hath no fury' and all that." She gave a weak smile. "The truth is I don't want you dead. And I don't really regret sleeping with you. The three weeks I spent in your arms was the most soul-shattering experience of my life. It has brought me a lot of pain, yes, but I've learned so much about myself. And it gave me Trunks. You gave me the most wonderful gift I've ever received, even if you didn't mean to. So I can't regret being with you. Ever."

She paused and waited to see if he would say anything. There was no response, no indication he was even paying attention.

"I also wanted to thank you for fighting tomorrow. . ."

"I'm not fighting for your stupid world! I fight for myself, for pride."

"I know that Vegeta. I'm not stupid or deaf. You've been saying that for the last ten days! But the fact remains that you _are_ fighting. Even if you defeat Cell for your own reasons, we still win. We get to live the rest of our lives. I get to see Trunks grow up. . . . I wonder if he'll turn out like the one from the future."

There was a snort from the corner. "I hope not. Impudent boy. No respect for his betters."

"He tries so hard to please you. All he wants is some sign of your approval. Is that so hard to give?"

There was more silence, then, "Yes."

"Is it because you don't approve of him or because you don't know how to show him you approve?" she asked.

She waited through the silence, but this time there was no answer.

"Well," she sighed, "I've said what I came to say. I'll leave you to your darkness." She turned to go.

"How is Trunks?"

Bulma froze. Somehow she knew he didn't mean the one from the future. He meant her son. . .their son. He had never asked about Trunks before, never even referred to him by name. She couldn't have been more shocked if he'd asked what designer label was in her shirt.

"Trunks? He. . .he's fine. He's perfect actually. Such a sweet little boy. He's trying to walk now which is good because he'll be a lot happier when he can get around better and bad because he'll be able to get into more stuff that he shouldn't. The other night I spent forty-five minutes watching some infomercial on knives because he'd gotten his chubby fingers on the remote and I couldn't pry his hand off. He's already so strong! I don't know what I'll do when he learns to fly. . . ."

She stopped when she realized she was babbling and probably making a fool of herself in the process.

"You won't have to worry about that for a while yet. I didn't fly until I was four," Vegeta said.

His voice sounded so. . .gentle. If it weren't for the facts that he was imparting personal information and that they hadn't exchanged a civil word in over two weeks, the conversation would seem normal. Was he trying to bridge a gap or was he just in some kind of funk and tomorrow he'd be back to his usual spiteful self? Bulma couldn't tell. Reading Vegeta was like reading a subway map in a foreign language. You could pick a destination, but it was anybody's guess if you would wind up where you wanted to be.

_Take a chance_, her brain said. _What's the worst that could happen?_

"You know," she said, "if everything works out the way we hope tomorrow, maybe you could come over for dinner one night and meet Trunks. I don't think you two have ever been properly introduced."

There was a pause as he seemed to consider her offer.

"Doubtful," he replied. "After I defeat Cell I have other plans."

_Figures, _she thought. J_ust an aberration, that moment a few seconds ago. The exception that proves the rule. _

"Of course," she said. "But the offer stands, if your plans change."

She waited a moment more to see if he would answer, then she left through the window and down the ladder. She flew home to her little house and rocked her baby. She finally went to bed when she realized she was falling asleep herself and would wake up with a huge crick in her neck if she didn't lie down. If tomorrow was going to be her last day, she wasn't going to spend it in pain.

The Earth had stopped shaking and the dust had settled. Almost everywhere else on Earth, there was celebration. People were cheering, laughing and clasping each other in joy, even dancing in the streets. The chant of "Satan, Satan" could be heard for miles around any large city. But not here. Here, a lone figure did not feel joy at the victory over Cell; he didn't laugh or dance. He didn't cheer for the Savior of the Earth, Mr. Satan. He was not relieved that the Earth would live another day. This man felt nothing. For this man, _there was nothing_.

Nothing.

Never in his life had he had less than he did now. Even when he learned planet Vegeta was destroyed and he would never return to the palace on the shores of Brean, never see his father again, never ascend to the Getal throne of the first Vegeta; even then he had more.

He had hate. He had anger. He had revenge.

They were his only possessions for twenty years, but they were enough. Even when Kakarott killed Frieza and removed the object of all his malice, he so thoughtfully left himself as the new target of Vegeta's hate, anger and thirst for revenge. Vegeta was hardly empty-handed.

Now in one fell swoop, Kakarott had swept them away. In dying, he had left Vegeta with nothing. Nothing to hate, nothing at which to rage and no one on whom to exact revenge. Vegeta had _nothing._

_Kakarott! You killed yourself on purpose so you wouldn't have to face me_, he thought. Yet even as he thought it, he knew it was false. _Vegeta_ had never been a motivating factor in Kakarott's life. _Vegeta_ had probably not even crossed Kakarott's mind as he sacrificed himself. _Vegeta_ and anything he might want, need or crave wasn't even a footnote on Kakarott's 'to-do' list. These thoughts infuriated Vegeta, but without anyone at whom to direct his fury, there was no point to it. It was impotent, unsatisfying and he let it go.

_So now I have nothing. I could go try to pick a fight with Gohan, but he doesn't want to fight. He doesn't_ like _to fight. He's not a warrior, he doesn't understand. Not like Kakarott. Kakarott understood. . .and he's gone. _

A wave of loneliness passed over Vegeta. He stamped it down quickly, refusing to accept that on some level he might miss the moron. Kakarott was nothing to him. . . ._nothing_! A disgrace to the name of Saiyan! He was glad, yes _glad_, the idiot was no longer around to plague him. The entire universe awaited him! He certainly wasn't going to sit here and mope about someone who wasn't fit to lick his boots! The Earth was just a stop on the way to greatness. There was nothing for him here. . . .

Unbidden, Bulma's face came to his mind. He thought about their last encounter and was glad it hadn't been hostile. It was good that she seemed to have found some measure of peace regarding their stormy relationship. She deserved peace. She had given him so many things. Not just food and shelter or even the gravity room and all that came with it, but beauty, affection and even a small measure of peace for himself, however brief. _And a son! _ A child that was never intended, a mistake even, but real nonetheless. He had never given much thought to having a child. It had always been a part of his grandiose "rule the galaxy" fantasy which included founding a dynasty; anything more specific than that hadn't been considered. Now the thought of "ruling the galaxy" had lost much of its appeal. It had always been part and parcel with defeating Frieza and taking control of his territories. Frieza had been dead for years. Others had already carved up his empire and wresting control from the new regimes just didn't have the same appeal as wresting control from Frieza. . . .

So it was good that he had already passed on the royal genes. With no empire to rule there was no need for a dynasty, but it wasn't right that his line vanish from the universe. Trunks would be safe here with Bulma. He would grow up rich and powerful in his own way. Perhaps Bulma might one day tell him that he was from a line of great kings from a long gone world. The boy wouldn't understand, of course, not really, but he might feel pride all the same. _It would be enough,_ he thought. _In truth, it's more than I ever really thought I would have._

The last person Dr. Briefs expected to walk into his office that afternoon was Vegeta. They had said their goodbyes to his grandson from the future earlier that day. Vegeta had put in an appearance, standing outside the group but clearly there to see the young man off, mildly surprising Dr. Briefs. Vegeta had gone out of his way to avoid the boy while he was here and Dr. Briefs didn't think there was any love lost between the two. _Perhaps they came to some kind of understanding, what with all the fighting going on. Nothing like the end of the world to bring people together. _ Vegeta had blasted off after Trunks's ship had vanished; Bulma and her mother took the baby shopping now that the stores were back open and Dr. Briefs went to his office to work on something that didn't involve saving the world.

"What do you want, Vegeta?" Dr. Briefs said. There was a little hostility in his voice, which was not surprising considering his daughter had spent quite a lot of the last two years unhappy and most of it was this man's fault.

"I want to leave," Vegeta said.

"Leave? Capsule Corporation? What's stopping you?"

"I want to leave Earth. . .permanently,"

"I see," Dr. Briefs said. "Have you talked to Bulma about this?"

"Whatever for?"

_Whatever indeed? _Dr. Briefs thought about mentioning the fact that he had a child here and therefore some responsibility, but decided against it. All things considered, it would be better for everyone if Vegeta left the Earth. Bulma would mope around a bit and his wife would no doubt go into a decline without someone to cook for, but in the end everyone would be happier. It was clear that as far as Vegeta was concerned, Bulma and his child were non-factors in his decisions. Bulma had suffered enough because of this alien. She would be able to re-build her life once he was gone. Giving Vegeta a capsule was getting off cheap.

"I can have Capsule Four ready in forty-eight hours. I suppose you'll need supplies?"

"Yes."

"And you'll be gone _permanently_?" Dr. Briefs asked.

Vegeta did not misunderstand. "I will leave and not return."

"Excellent. Everything will be ready Friday morning." Dr. Briefs turned his attention back to his work, but after a moment he realized that Vegeta was still standing there.

"Was there something else?" he asked.

"I am making my departure as low key as possible," Vegeta said. "Would you tell Bulma I said 'goodbye'?"

_What a chickenshit,_ Dr. Briefs thought. _I don't see what my daughter ever saw in you._

"Tell her yourself," he said and turned away. This time, when he looked back up, Vegeta was gone.

_Notes for revised version:_ I didn't address the Vegeta/Mirai Trunks issue in the original because, honestly, I didn't know how. Then this conversation started coming to me and I thought I would insert it here. There also a very small addition to chapter eleven from Vegeta's POV. Thanks for reading! And thanks to Ember who found as many mistakes in this small addition as she usually finds in a complete chapter. What would I do without you? hugs

ORIGINAL NOTES: A very huge "THANKYOU" to all who have reviewed. It means so much to hear that you like the story. Domo Arigato! Merci beaucoup! Danke! Gracias! Spasiba!

Again, I know I played a little with the story. The discovery of Krillen's crush on Eighteen gets revealed at Kami's. I just couldn't resist using it here. I guess I'm writing an AU after all, ne?

And everyone get EMBER a huge round of applause! If I look good, it's because she's fixed all my mistakes.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonballz nor am I making any money off this story. I'm just having a wee bit of fun.

For those of you who don't read the notes at the end, let me thank EMBER up front for being a super beta and consultant. She is wonderful, personally and professionally. Domo arigato, Ember-chan!

AFTER THE KISS

Chapter 11

Vegeta lowered his hand for the fourth time. He was standing outside the front door to Bulma's house. Tomorrow morning he would leave. If he was going to tell her he was leaving personally it had to be tonight. He couldn't know, of course, that Bulma had gone through a similar dilemma a few days earlier. If he had, he certainly would have ridiculed her for her hesitation to say what was on her mind. _Just get it over with!_

That was what he had been telling himself for the last two days. That, or _say nothing. She'll figure out you're gone. No need to make any announcements. _This wasn't a very attractive option either. Despite anything he had ever said to the contrary, he was well aware that he should at least acknowledge her contributions to his stay on Earth. No one since he had left planet Vegeta had ever provided so much for him. On Vegeta, a vassal who had contributed as much as Bulma had to the royal family would have been acknowledged in a public ceremony, perhaps awarded a title. "They will give to you because you are their king," his father had told him once. "They will give you more if you praise them."

Of course, he didn't need anything else from Bulma, but that was beside the point. He had had few opportunities in his life to behave as a prince. He should take advantage of them when they presented themselves.

He raised his hand again to knock.

And lowered it.

_Why is this for fucking difficult? Bulma, I'm leaving Earth. Goodbye._ His stomach cramped. To make matters worse, he was having a physical reaction to his anxiety, something he hadn't experienced since he was a child in Frieza's court, and he learned that his primary function was to be Frieza's favorite whipping boy. The pain involved with that position was nothing to him, of course, but the humiliation that came with the pain was anathema to a boy who had cut his teeth on pride. Upon receiving a summons, his body would react, sometimes with no more than a cold sweat; other times with cramping, even vomiting. He outgrew the reaction (he thought) and when his stomach started cramping yesterday, he blamed it on overindulgence in a favorite Earth food, one he knew he would miss after he left. The closer the time of his departure came, though, the more he realized it was seeing Bulma that was bringing on the cramping. _So get it over with already! It's not like you haven't left before. What's the problem?_

_The problem is you won't ever see her again,_ his brain answered. _You may have left before, but now you can't lie to yourself about her. Now you know that no matter where you go, no matter how long you live, you will think about her. You will wonder what she's doing. Is she happy? Is she even alive? You've never said goodbye to anyone before. Even when you left Vegeta-sei, you believed you would return. There will be no turning back this time and you know it. That's the problem._ _Now do it or leave like a coward._

He knocked.

The door opened and Bulma stood there. She hadn't changed for bed yet, and that was good. She might be cranky if he dragged her out of bed to answer the door.

"Vegeta!"

"Hello, Bulma."

"Well, this is a surprise. Did you mean to come for dinner? You've missed it by a few hours, you know, and Trunks is already in bed—"

"No, I didn't come for that," he said. "May I come in?"

"Yes! I'm sorry, where's my manners?" She opened the door wider, and he entered her house. "Come sit down," she said, leading him into a small living room.

Vegeta looked around. Everything was small compared to the living quarters at Capsule Corporation; the furniture, the television set (which Bulma turned off). She noticed his eyes taking in her home.

"It's small, I know. But I like it. It's cozy, and just right for me and Trunks." She sat down opposite him.

"What's this about?" she asked.

Vegeta didn't answer, and Bulma looked at him closely. He was pale and a fine sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was ill.

_I'm leaving Earth. Goodbye. _

"Vegeta?" she prompted.

"I'm leaving," he said. _That wasn't right. . ._

"But you just got here. . ."

"No, I'm leaving Earth," he said. _There! That was better. _

She looked confused. "For how long?"

"I won't return."

_Oh no, _Bulma thought. _Forever._ She looked away.

"When?" she asked.

"Tomorrow."

"So why come here? Why not just leave?" She wished she could keep the anger out of her voice. She looked at him. _Did he just get paler?_

"I. . . wanted to thank you for your services to a prince of Vegeta-sei." He kept his face immobile as another cramp hit him. _Almost over. She'll say "You're welcome" and . . . ._

"It was my pleasure to serve you, _your highness_," she said. "Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out!" _Arrogant asshole! And to think a few seconds ago I was sorry I would never see him again. _She stood up, expecting him to follow suit. He did, but it appeared to be with some effort. She looked at his pale face and noticed that the sweat on his brow had moved beyond "sheen". _Something's wrong. Could he be ill?_

"Vegeta, are you OK? You don't look well," she said.

"I'm fine," he said, stepping past her to the door. She stepped in front of him and put a hand on his forehead.

"You're warm, but you're always warm. I don't have anything here to check you out with. Let's head over to the compound so I can run—"

"Damnit, Bulma, I'm fine!"

"You're not fine! You're pale as a ghost, and you're sweating like a fever's just broken! Now tell me what's wrong!"

_Tell her about the cramping_, his brain snickered. _Tell her you're having an anxiety attack over telling her goodbye. _He tried to calm himself. He was never going to get out of here at this rate. Bulma was waiting for some answer, and he'd be damned if he was going to tell her the truth. _You see, Bulma, the great Prince of all Saiyans is having a bit of an anxiety attack over the thought of never seeing your pathetic human face again._ . . . His stomach cramped again, and this time he didn't hide it as well.

"Vegeta? Look, at least lie down, OK? Before you fall down." She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward her bedroom.

"I'm fine. . ."

"Yeah, sure you are, Vegeta. Just placate the mother in me, and lie down for a few minutes. I can't let you leave when you look like this and you certainly don't want to leave for space tomorrow if you really are sick." She steered him towards her bed and gave him a gentle push to sit him down.

"Just lay down for a few minutes. Then I'll leave you alone, OK?"

"Just a few minutes," he said and lay down. _This will shut her up,_ he thought. _When she leaves the room, I can leave by her window. _ He breathed in and smelled her scent. Something inside him unknotted. He turned onto his side, lifted the end of the pillow to his nose and breathed again, memorizing the scent. _Maybe I should take this with me_, he thought and fell asleep.

Out in her living room, Bulma turned the television back on, determined to get her mind off the strange visit from Vegeta. She flipped through the channels, but as soon as she found a program that she thought would hold her interest, she would start wondering about Vegeta again. _Could he be really ill? He always said Saiyans don't get sick, but what else? And why would he even come over here at all? One more fight for the road? Or was that his bizarre way of saying goodbye?_ She grabbed an afghan and curled up on her side. _Damn loveseat. When am I going to learn not to buy "cute"?_ She flipped the channel again and found an old movie she loved. By the time her favorite part in the movie came though, the one where the hero admits his undying love for the heroine, she was fast asleep.

A loud commercial woke her. She sat up and glanced at the clock. _Not as late as I thought. Why am I on the loveseat?_

_Vegeta!_

She ran to her bedroom and peered into the darkness. She sighed, relieved. He was still there. She walked over and lightly touched his forehead. He was sweating no more. _Maybe it was just some weird bug, and it took longer than normal for his Saiyan physiology to fight it off. I wonder how much longer he'll sleep, _she thought. _I didn't exactly plan to spend my entire night on the loveseat. Of course, there's plenty of room here. I'll have to sleep on the wrong side since his highness took mine, but it's better than the loveseat by a long shot, and I'm supposed to go to work tomorrow. Aww, to hell with it. It is _my _bed. _

So she lay down on top of the covers, fully dressed. It felt so good to stretch out that she fell asleep without any thoughts at all.

She woke up this time because she didn't feel right. She opened her eyes to see she was laying on her side, facing the edge of her bed—the wrong edge. Why was she on the wrong side of the bed? And in her clothes? _Vegeta! That's right. He was on the other side._ She rolled onto her back to see if he had left yet—and found him staring at her. He was lying on his side, propped up on his elbow, looking at her with those black eyes of his. How long he'd been watching her she didn't know, and she was faintly surprised that the thought of him watching her sleep didn't make her uncomfortable. She was less surprised at the relief she felt because he hadn't left yet. The truth was, she never wanted him to leave.

They stared at each other in the dark, he apparently as comfortable with the situation as she. Finally, Bulma became too curious about what Vegeta was thinking to be silent anymore.

"Vegeta?" she asked softly.

He didn't answer for a long time, and then he took a breath and began to speak.

"All my life I have chased my destiny, only to find it destroyed or taken by another. I. . .I am tired. I think I would like to be still and let destiny come to me."

Bulma swallowed and felt tears fall from her eyes back into her hair. She hadn't even felt them tear up.

"I think that sounds like a good plan," she said with a tender smile. "I'm sure Destiny will find you when she needs you."

"She? You think Destiny is a woman?"

"Of course," she said. "Do you doubt it?"

"I doubt everything," he said.

_Me?_ she wondered. _Do you doubt me too? How can you not know?_

"Why did you leave before?" she asked.

"I am not used to having anything to lose. It made me uncomfortable."

Her brows drew together in confusion. "What did you have to lose?"

He gave a small shake of his head, refusing to answer. "It doesn't matter," he said. "I lost it anyway."

_Oh Vegeta, what will I do when you're gone? I don't even remember my life before you came; how can I have one without you? _ She would, she knew, have some kind of life. She would send Trunks to kindergarten, invent some more spectacular things, and become even richer. She would take over the company when her father retired, watch Trunks graduate from high school, then college. She would take cruises around the world, buy beautiful things and have a facelift or two. She would watch Trunks pick a nice girl and get married and then give her a grandchild. She would grow old, and if she was lucky she would die peacefully in her sleep, gracing a few more magazine covers even in death. These were all things she knew were in her future, but now it seemed like a half-life because she hadn't really been alive until he came. She had been waiting for him to bring her to life, like a flower waiting for the sunshine to bloom; and like the flower, she would close up when the sun disappeared for the night. Only in the morning, her sun would be gone.

"Please kiss me," she said.

She saw his surprise.

"You're leaving," she said. "So kiss me goodbye."

He hesitated, and then his head began a slow descent to hers. She grew impatient and reached up with one hand to pull him down to her.

It was soft and slow and achingly sweet. It was warm and wet and so full of love that Bulma stopped and looked in his eyes.

"Don't lie to me," she said.

"I won't," he answered.

And he didn't. With his lips and tongue he told her how beautiful he thought she was. With his breath, he showed her how she warmed his soul. His hands told her that he would never hold anything this perfect again, even if he searched a lifetime. And when he fitted his body to hers, he told her how he would never belong anywhere again. He only fit here. Only with her.

_When I dream,_ he thought as she curled up next to him in her sleep, _I will dream of you. I will dream of this goodbye. And even though I never said a word, perhaps I will have said the right things_.

In the morning when she woke up, he was gone.

She sat up and looked around the room. His clothes were gone. _He's gone._

She threw her pillow across the room.

"Why am I so stupid!" she said, burying he face in her hands.

"Do you really want me to answer that or was that a rhetorical question?"

She looked up, and Vegeta was standing in the doorway, pants on, but his shirt was slung over one shoulder. He looked delicious.

"Where'd you go?" she asked.

"The brat was making noise. I went and told him to quiet down because you were sleeping."

This was a lie. Trunks hadn't woken at all; he was still sound asleep in his crib. Vegeta had just wanted to get a good look at his son without anyone peering at him, questioning what his motives might be. Even though he was leaving, he figured he was entitled to at least one good look. He had stood there, staring, wishing for a scouter for the first time in a long time. _The child is strong,_ he thought and couldn't help adding, _of course. _

"_She cries for you, my mother," his son had said. "I think you should know that."_

"Not anymore," he whispered to the smaller version before him, "not anymore."

He had awoke this morning later than he intended. He had wanted to leave before daybreak, but when he awoke and saw the sunlight on Bulma's skin, he was grateful to have one more memory to take with him. He had lain there, looking at her, the sun's warmth giving her skin an ethereal glow. The events that brought her to him were so improbable that even in a thousand lifetimes, they wouldn't duplicate themselves. In an infinite universe, somehow he had wound up here. They should never have met and would never meet again.

He had heard of stars traveling too close to each other in deep space. Their immense gravities pulled huge waves of fire and energy from each, giving it to the other. They circled each other in a death embrace, tearing each other apart. Sometimes, however, the stars' cosmic momentum pulled them apart before the dance was done. They moved away from each other, intact, but burning forever with part of the other star's energy. After he left, he knew part of Bulma would burn in him. A week ago, the thought would have infuriated him. He welcomed it now. He knew somehow he burned brighter because of it.

"Oh, I'd better get him" she said, getting out of bed to put on her robe.

"He's asleep now. Don't bother," Vegeta said. He enjoyed the view as Bulma slipped into her robe. It was tempting, but he had no idea what kind of welcome he would receive in the light of day. _Last night was special, _he thought. _Don't push it._

"So who do you have to sleep with to get some breakfast around here?" he asked instead.

Bulma grinned. _He's staying he must be! He said he wouldn't lie. He can't touch me like that and leave. _ "That would be me," she said.

_Thank goodness I got groceries yesterday_, she thought as she made her way to the kitchen. _It wouldn't be a very good start to starve Vegeta his first day here!_ She put on coffee and began cooking portions much larger than she normally prepared.

"Do you want coffee or juice?" she asked as she set his plate in front of him.

"Coffee's fine," he said and stuffed a forkful of food in his mouth.

Bulma watched him chew, waiting to see his reaction.

"This doesn't suck," he said.

Bulma giggled. "It doesn't, does it?" She got his coffee and sat down with her own plate. "Maternity leave is not what's it's cracked up to be. Just you, a baby, and daytime television. . . . Yuk! It's no wonder housewives are going back to work! Daytime television would drive anyone from their home. One day I was just flipping mindlessly and I found this cooking show! It was entertaining and really went into a lot of the science behind cooking. You know, what makes bread rise, or milk scald---"

"Which you enjoy."

"Right! So everyday I watched this show,and I learned how to cook. The repertoire is limited but definitely edible! Of course, when it was just Trunks and me it didn't matter that there wasn't a lot of variety, but since I'm going to be cooking for you, I'm going to—"

She stopped at the expression on his face. It was . . .shocked. Appalled even. The truth sunk in. He wasn't staying. He hadn't chosen her. . .again. She dropped her eyes to her lap, wringing her hands.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I told myself not to make too much out of last night, especially since I practically begged for it. It felt so right, and then you were here this morning—"

Bulma was right. Vegeta _was_ shocked. He didn't think she'd expect him to stay. He didn't think she'd _want_ him to stay. _Stay. _

"—I felt that you'd changed your mind,---"

But it seemed she _did_ want him to stay. _Stay,_ he thought. _Be still. _ _Stay with her. What would that mean, if I stayed with her?_ He didn't know, but he wanted to find out.

"Bulma—" he said.

"—but of course I should have known—"

"Bulma—"

"—that somehow I'd misread everything like before—"

"Bulma!"

Finally she looked up from her hands. He reached out and wiped the tears from one cheek and looked into her eyes.

"I will stay."

She reached up and wiped the tears from her other cheek.

"You'll stay?"

"I will stay," he repeated. His lips twisted into a teasing smile. "At least until your ugly face and bad temper drive me away."

Her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward to rest her chin on one fist.

"Don't you mean 'until I get tired of your useless, arrogant Saiyan ass and throw you out'?"

His smile widened. "That too."

Bulma leaned back with a smile of her own and gave a small shrug.

"Fair enough," she said and went back to eating her breakfast. Vegeta watched her, utterly certain that for one time in his life he had made a good decision. Where it would lead, he didn't know. He didn't care. He felt good. He felt _light_.

Bulma felt his eyes on her. She kept eating with a calm she did not feel. This accord was too new, too uncertain. Wanting was one thing, reality was another. Is it love? Is it forever? Or is this just another mistake?

Then something new happened. Her heart spoke. _You don't need to know these things now,_ it said. _He will stay. There is time._

_Yes,_ she thought, _we have time now._

And the future didn't seem uncertain or frightening anymore. It was a present to be opened, a vacation to a secret destination, a seed planted in the sunshine to grow. It was all these things and it would be revealed to her in time—and he would be there.

"Better finish your breakfast before it gets cold," she said, "because I'm sure as hell not cooking you another one."

And later, when breakfast was finished, Bulma properly introduced Vegeta to his son.

FIN

Revised Notes: Just a small bit to complement the conversation I added between Bulma and Mirai Trunks in Chapter 10. Thanks for reading.

Original Notes: Well, it's finished. I hope you weren't disappointed that there were no protestations of undying love. I don't think they are ready for that yet. Another fic, perhaps.

I hope you enjoyed the story. Thank you so much for your kind reviews. I would love to hear any other feedback you can provide, even things you think are negative so I can improve. I do plan on writing more stories, so please check back occasionally. A couple of fics are already in the works and when I feel fairly confident about their progress, I'll start posting.

For those of you interested in these things, _First "Date" _and _After the Kiss _were inspired by the lyrics of John Lennon's _Surprise, Surprise (Sweet Bird of Paradox)_. Hopefully, you noticed how often Vegeta (who had long since thought he had lost the capacity to be surprised) is surprised.

Sweet as the smell of success,  
Her body's warm and wet,  
She gets me through this god awful loneliness,  
A natural high butterfly Oh I,  
I need, need, need her.

Just like a willow tree,  
A breath of spring you see,  
And oh boy you don't know what she do to me,  
She makes me sweat and forget who I am,  
I need, need, need, need her.

Well I was wondering how long this could go on,

Well I thought I could never be surprised.  
But could it be that I bit my own tongue?  
It's so hard to swallow when you're wrong.

A bird of paradise,  
The sunrise in her eyes,  
God only knows such a sweet surprise,  
I was blind, she blew my mind  
I think I love, love, love, love, love her

John wrote this song for May Pang, during his "lost weekend" from Yoko. It's on the fabulous "Walls and Bridges" album.


End file.
